Death Becomes Us...

I

It was pushing midnight, and the train car was completely empty except for me. I checked the time again. Twenty minutes left until we rolled through my town. But for the first time in a long while, I wasn't eager to get home. No one was waiting for me there anymore.

I rested my head against the seatback and closed my eyes, fighting the urge to dwell on what had happened. Still, the images of the impact kept burning into my retinas on a relentless loop. I didn't want to keep reliving it. It was too agonizing.

A sudden noise made me open my eyes. The sliding door at the end of the car had opened, and the ticket inspector stepped through. He was a guy of about twenty-five whom I’d never seen before, despite taking this exact train every single night.

I flashed him my ticket, and he offered me a smile.

He moved on to the next car, leaving me alone with my grief. But a few minutes later he came back, and to my surprise, he spoke to me.

"The train's empty. Mind if I sit with you?"

He didn't wait for an answer before dropping into the seat across from me. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore just how fucking gorgeous he was.

"I'm really sorry about your guy," he said.

My eyes snapped open.

"How did you...?"

"I saw you on the news. You've got unmistakable eyes."

I didn't know how the hell to respond to that.

"Has the funeral happened yet?"

"This morning," I replied, thrown off balance by his bluntness.

"Don't worry. It'll pass." His sheer audacity was starting to piss me off, but he kept talking, and my anger slowly dissolved. "I've lost three people I loved deeply in the last three years. Once you realize they're still alive as long as you are, everything gets easier. Look at Freddie Mercury. He's more present now than when he was breathing. What's your name?"

"Rafa."

"I'm Julián, but you can call me Lían. It doesn't sound quite as awful."

"Lían?"

"It started as a nickname on IRC. Now everyone calls me that. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"About what happened to your guy."

"I don't think so."

"Suit yourself. But I promise you, the sooner you do, the sooner it stops torturing you."

After thinking it over for a moment, I asked:

"Who did you lose?"

"First my mom, then my dad, and six months ago, my girlfriend."

My most selfish self, the part of my brain that was always on high alert looking to score, cursed silently. The gorgeous ticket inspector was straight. Then I felt like absolute shit for thinking that on the exact same day I'd buried my guy.

"What happened to your girlfriend?"

"We had some of that canned mushroom soup. Apparently, it had gone bad. I survived, she didn't."

"What a shitty life."

"Well, I like still being here."

"I mean it's so easy to check out... We should come armor-plated from the factory. Did you sue the soup company?"

"Didn't have to. They paid us a fortune not to sue. Both my in-laws and me. Anyway, our lawyer said it was a lottery, that proving negligence was really tough, that the can could have taken a hit during transport or right there in the supermarket, and if we went to trial, odds were we wouldn't see a dime."

"Then how come they gave you so much money just like that?"

"To save themselves the bad press. And now you're going to ask what I'm doing working, with all that cash sitting in my checking account. Truth is, I get bored. Even though I could easily take a few gap years. Your turn."

"My turn?"

"To talk about your shit. I'm sure whatever they said on the news is total bullshit, like always."

"What did they say on the news?"

"Well, they really hammered home the fact that you're both guys, as you can imagine. And they talked about... well, about how the whole thing might have been triggered by your partner discovering you were cheating on him."

"Seriously? I don't believe it."

"They dropped the hint, pure Tomate style. TV is fucking disgusting. Then they ran a segment on the gay scene, the nightlife, the coke, the booze, the reckless sex, and the pills."

"Jesus Christ, what a disgrace."

"Maybe if you sue them you can get something out of it too. I can advise you."

"All I want is to forget about everything as soon as possible."

"Tell me about it. You'll be taking the first step."

I looked at him, unconvinced, raising an eyebrow to emphasize my skepticism, but in the end, I let myself be dragged into it.

"Fine. But you have to promise me it never leaves here."

"I'll take it to my grave. Well, our partners are the ones in the graves."

"I don't know if I like your sense of humor."

"You made it too fucking easy."

"Let's see. The story starts seven months ago."

"Go ahead."

"Esteban and I were coming back from a night out. I was pretty wasted; Esteban hadn't touched a drop so he could drive. That's important because we can't blame alcohol for what happened that night."

"Uh-huh."

"Esteban was driving pretty fast. We were in a rush to get home because we both had work the next day. Actually, we'd gone out clubbing after a birthday party. We hadn't planned on it. Anyway, who gives a shit. The point is, it was pitch black, and as we were getting close to home, Esteban blew through a crosswalk and we took out a girl."

Lían didn't seem the least bit surprised at this point, which somehow disappointed me. Since he didn't say a word, I kept going.

"We hit her dead on. She went flying right over the car. I still see her face when I close my eyes at night." I waited for Lían to comfort me, but he didn't. "Well. I know it sounds horrific, but we didn't stop. Esteban kept driving, saying he couldn't pull over, that he couldn't face the fact that we'd killed her. So we locked the car in the garage and went to bed. We didn't call the cops, we didn't tell a soul. We just waited. To this day, I still don't know if that girl died that night. We didn't leave the house for a week, didn't read the paper, didn't even go online. We didn't want to know. If the cops showed up at our door, we'd sing, obviously. But the cops never came. Esteban never drove his car again. It's been sitting in the garage since that night."

"So, what happened to Esteban? Did that girl show up with an axe to get her revenge?"

"Esteban killed himself. He hanged himself. But not because I cheated on him, like you said they're hinting at on TV, but because he didn't stop the car that night. It was like killing her twice—first by running her over, and then by leaving her there to die. Esteban became obsessed. He lost his fucking mind. He looked for a thousand and one reasons for what had happened. In his final days, he started blaming me. He said he was actually thinking about me when he decided not to stop. That he loved me so much he wanted to spare me the ordeal."

"It must have been hell living with that."

"It was hell living with him, more like."

"I see the thing with that girl affected you a lot less than it did him."

"I know it sounds cruel, but I wasn't the one behind the wheel."

As I said that, I realized the train had come to a stop, and I stood up.

"I have to go."

"Wait!"

"This is my stop."

"Stay, please."

"Why?"

"Because what you just told me is something you tell a friend, not a stranger. And if you walk away now, we'll stay strangers."

"But it's my stop..."

"There are only three left until the end of the line. My shift is over anyway. I can drive you home. Maybe we'll run over another chick at a crosswalk."

"I shouldn't stay, not after hearing you say shit like that."

"But are you staying?"

"Not like I have a choice," I said, seeing that the doors had already slid shut and the train was moving again. "But you've got a pretty twisted sense of humor, just so you know."

"It's part of my charm."

The truth was, I didn't know what to make of Lían. He scared me a little. I had just shown him my darkest side, talking shit about my freshly buried boyfriend and completely washing my hands of what we'd done to that girl. Esteban had killed himself. That didn't exactly speak highly of me. I hadn't known how to support him. I hadn't shared the blame. I had left the crushing weight of that night squarely on his shoulders, and he hadn't been able to bear it. In a way, Esteban's suicide was my fault. I was sure Lían had picked up on that while listening to my story, and instead of letting me walk away, he was saying he wanted to be my friend.

There was something strange about that (I already know there's something strange about me, but I have to live with myself and love myself, I don't have a choice). There was something enigmatic about Lían, something that terrified me. And turned me on.

He had his car parked next to the station. It was an ancient Ford Ka that looked like it was going to fall to pieces at any second.

"For a newly rich guy, your car is a piece of shit."

"I know. But I'm attached to it. It was my girlfriend's car."

"Touché. I keep fucking up tonight."

"Someday you'll understand that talking about the dead isn't fucking up, and that nothing you do or say in this world is wrong."

"That makes two."

"Two what?"

"I don't like your sense of humor, and I don't like your cheap philosophy."

"Rafa... I know I promised to take you home, but... want to come to my place?"

"Why the hell would I do that?"

"Because you fit."

"I fit? Fit where?"

"I've got a hole in my basement where I keep bodies. There's room for you."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I'm asking you to come fill a hole. It's a beautiful thing."

"Shoving my body into a ditch full of corpses isn't a beautiful thing."

"Are you coming?"

"Alright. I don't have anything better to do. But promise me I'll make it out alive."

"I can't promise you that. People die in the weirdest places. The world is a strange place."

"El Mundo is a newspaper."

"See? I don't like your sense of humor either. Now we have something in common."

During the drive, we kept up the same stupid banter, but I have to admit I was having a pretty good time, which was the last thing I expected today. When we got to his place, he parked the car and looked at me.

"This is going to be our last moment alone tonight," he said.

"How interesting. You don't live with your parents because you told me they were dead. Who else is in your house? Are you keeping your girlfriend's corpse up there?"

"This is going to be our last moment of solitude tonight. Don't fuck it up."

"Okay."

"Before we go up, I want you to know I'm into you."

"You're into me?"

"Physically."

"I thought you were straight."

"I thought so too, until I wasn't."

"Okay."

"I'm into you physically, intellectually too, and it's possible that someday I might even fall in love with you."

"Wow..."

"That's it."

"That's it?"

"I had to tell you before we went up. You know... to have a bit of an edge."

And he got out of the car.

"Hey," I said, getting out after him. "Don't you want to know if I'm into you too?"

"I don't want you saying anything you'll have to regret in a few minutes"—another clear allusion to whatever was waiting for us inside his place.

I decided to take his advice. I didn't say a fucking word and followed him upstairs, thoroughly intrigued.

He took out his keys. From inside the apartment, I could hear a TV, turned up pretty loud. He opened the door. The hallway was pitch black. Lían grabbed my hand and said, "Come."

I let him lead me, obediently, into the living room. I saw a massive, hundred-inch TV and recognized the movie El orfanato (a horror flick).

There were seven guys scattered across two sofas and some floor cushions. Their ages ranged from 20 to 35. But the crazy thing was that they were all incredibly gorgeous, each in his own way. It was like a collection of dream guys. They were too fucking beautiful to coexist in the same room without the planet exploding or, at the very least, the walls cracking.

"Hey," Lían said.

There were seven symmetrical heys from his friends. Someone paused the DVD, and someone else flipped on the light.

"Is that him?" asked one of those dream guys.

"You brought him?" asked another.

Suddenly, I felt like a defenseless puppy cornered in the kitchen after peeing where I wasn't supposed to. They were talking about me. There had been a premeditated plan to bring me to this house. I felt fear, I admit it.

"His name is Rafa. And he meets the requirements," Lían explained.

I started wondering if he was actually serious about filling a hole in the basement with my body.

"Lían... Can we talk in the kitchen for a second?" I suggested.

"He's scared," someone said.

"Take him to the kitchen, Lían. We'll finish watching the movie."

Lían led me into a massive, fully equipped kitchen where, I assumed, there wouldn't be a single can of soup.

"Explain yourself before I run right out that door."

"I live with them."

"I can see that."

"I watched the news with them. We saw you on the news."

"Keep going."

"I told them I knew you. That you take the same train every day."

"I've never seen you."

"You never see anyone. You spend the whole ride staring at your hands and listening to music."

"Maybe."

"So I told them if I saw you on the train, I'd talk to you, see if you fit the profile. Honestly, I didn't think I'd see you tonight. I didn't go to work when I buried my girlfriend."

"I went to keep my mind occupied. What's this about fitting the profile?"

"Well... My roommates and I are part of a club. Hold on, I'll introduce you."

We went back to the living room. Lían snatched the remote from one of the guys and paused the movie again.

"Alright, line up."

The guys obeyed, smiling. Truth is, they looked like a bunch of kids gathered for a sleepover, only older and definitely with a lot more hair on their balls. I wondered if they actually all lived there, like Lían claimed, or if they just got together at his place every now and then.

"Boys, this is Rafa."

"Hiii, Rafaaaa!" they all chorused in pure Alcoholics Anonymous tradition.

"We love you," one of them muttered under his breath, just to top it off.

"Rafa lost Esteban, his boyfriend. Was he your boyfriend or your husband, Rafa?"

"Boyfriend. Just my boyfriend."

"He lost Esteban, his boyfriend. He hanged himself."

"How awful," someone said.

"I'm so sorry," added another.

"He must have done something wrong," a third one chimed in.

Someone elbowed the third guy.

"He still doesn't know if he's joining the club or not. He wants to meet you guys first."

"Makes sense, makes sense."

"Alright. Rafa, this is Just Juan," Lían said, introducing me to the first in line, a gorgeous bear, dark-haired with blue eyes, and a beard that made you want to run your fingers through it.

"Just Juan?" I asked.

"Because there are two Juans"—the second Juan, a muscular, shirtless blond guy, raised his hand and shrugged. "We call him Juan Cubed. Anyway, right now we're on Just Juan. Just Juan lost his partner last year. But let him tell you."

"His name was Tomás and he was an air traffic controller. But he didn't get run over by a plane or anything like that. He had a massive heart attack during a marathon."

"Why are you dancing, Just Juan?" Lían asked, teasing him.

"I'm pissing myself, but I was too creeped out to go to the bathroom. We just watched the scene where the old lady gets run over. Creepy as fuck."

"Go on, go."

Just Juan bolted out of the room.

"This is Néstor. His wife and two kids, who were only two and three years old, died in a car crash about three years ago."

"They were coming back from visiting my mother-in-law. The woman's a pain in the ass, no wonder Lola fell asleep on the drive back."

"Actually, the causes of the accident aren't clear," Lían explained.

"I'm sure she fell asleep. She used to fall asleep standing up," Néstor said.

Lían went on introducing me to the rest. They had all lost at least their partners, and none of them had any problem talking or joking about it.

"And this is Gerardo," Lían said when we reached the last one. Gerardo was pretty weird. Dressed in black up to his neck. He was pale, but that didn't make him any less attractive. He had long, black hair. It reached past his waist. He looked like a vampire straight out of an erotic novel. "His boyfriend died last week. He hasn't wanted to tell us how, but we suspect he killed him himself just to get into our club."

Gerardo smiled enigmatically at the introduction, but didn't say a word.

After the introductions, everyone sat back down to finish the movie, and Lían took me to his bedroom.

"What do you think of them?"

"Honestly? A little crazy. And they're hot as fuck."

"Right?"

"Do you have to be hot to join the club?"

"No, no. That was just a coincidence. Besides, you break the rule."

"Thanks a lot."

"No, no. I mean you break the mold. You're way hotter than them."

"I repeat. Thanks a lot. But it's not true. Hey... There's a majority of gay guys. Is there a specific reason for that?"

Lían took a moment to answer.

"It just happened that way. First I met Néstor, about four months ago. Actually, I already knew him by sight, from a coffee shop we both go to. One day we just started talking and he told me about his wife and kids, and I told him about my girlfriend. We hit it off, and after spending two days together, we ended up in my bed. Up until that point, neither he nor I had been with men, so it was a new and exciting experience for both of us. For a few weeks, we thought we'd become a couple, but then the passion fizzled out and we realized there was no more chemistry. Then the others started joining, spontaneously. It's like we're a magnet for gorgeous widowers. I don't know how we founded the club or why they all end up moving in with me, but I like it. As for the gay majority, honestly, I don't think we can accept very straight guys or women into the club anymore, because this place has turned into a total whorehouse. Everyone hooks up with everyone, and I don't know if that might make a straight guy who isn't into excesses uncomfortable."

"Everyone with everyone?"

"Basically. It goes in phases. Couples or threesomes form and then dissolve. I don't know how it works, I don't participate."

"Seriously?"

"Really."

"And why don't you participate?"

"Because I actually fell in love with Néstor."

The next part is coming in a few days. Follow my profile so you don't miss the rest of the story.

The following weekend, the twins put their next plan into motion. Cousin Liam had always been the quiet, sporty one in the family — twenty-two, Mark’s nephew on their late mother’s side, with the same dark hair and green eyes as the twins but a slightly stockier, rugby-player build. He was home from uni for a few days and had no idea what he was walking into when Alex texted him: “Come crash at ours Saturday night. Dad and Uncle Ryan are here, plus our mate Ethan. Proper family get-together.”

Liam arrived mid-afternoon with a six-pack and a gym bag, wearing a fitted polo and shorts that hugged his thick thighs and the promising bulge between them. The moment he stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. The others were already half-dressed, the air heavy with anticipation.

“Alright, cuz?” Jordan grinned, pulling Liam into a tight hug that lingered just a second too long, letting their bodies press together.

Liam chuckled, then froze when he saw the scene in the living room: Mark and Ryan shirtless on the sofa, Ethan lounging in just his boxers, and the twins already palming each other through their shorts.

“What the fuck is this?” Liam asked, eyes wide but his cock visibly twitching in his shorts.

Alex stepped behind him, hands sliding round his waist. “This is us finally getting what we’ve all wanted for years. You in, Liam? Or are you gonna pretend you haven’t been checking out the twins’ arses since we were teenagers?”
Liam swallowed hard, then let out a shaky laugh. “You lot are mental… but fuck it. I’m in.”

Clothes came off in a rush. Liam’s body was solid — broad chest, thick cock (uncut and heavy, already leaking) and a firm, rounded arse the twins had fantasised about for years. They dropped to their knees together, sharing their cousin’s dick while Mark, Ryan and Ethan watched, stroking themselves.

“Christ, you two are proper slags,” Liam groaned, threading his fingers through their identical hair as they licked and sucked him in tandem, tongues swirling around his shaft and foreskin.

They moved to the bedroom, the big bed now a proper playground for six. Mark bent Liam over the edge first, slicking his thick cock and pushing into his nephew’s tight hole in one slow, deep thrust. Liam moaned loudly, gripping the sheets.

“Uncle Mark… fuck, you’re big,” he gasped.
Ryan slid underneath Liam, feeding his cock into his nephew’s mouth while the twins took turns eating Liam’s arse alongside their dad’s thrusting shaft, tongues flicking over where they joined. Ethan knelt behind Alex, fucking him steadily as Alex licked and sucked his cousin’s balls.

The rotation was relentless and filthy. Jordan fucked Liam next, pounding him hard while Ethan took Liam’s mouth. Then Mark and Ryan double-penetrated their nephew, stretching his hole wide around both thick cocks until Liam was shaking and begging incoherently. The twins lay beneath, licking up every drop of sweat and precum, occasionally pushing their own cocks in alongside for a moment of overwhelming tightness.

Liam came first — hands-free, shooting thick ropes across the sheets while both uncles were buried inside him. The sight triggered a chain reaction. Mark and Ryan unloaded deep in his guts, flooding him until cum squirted out around their cocks with every thrust. Alex and Jordan followed, painting Liam’s chest and face. Ethan finished last, pulling out of Jordan and adding his load to the mess on Liam’s tongue.

They all collapsed in a sweaty, cum-covered pile, bodies tangled. Liam lay in the middle, panting, a dazed, satisfied grin on his face as cum leaked from his wrecked hole.
“Best family reunion ever,” he murmured, voice hoarse. He reached out to squeeze both twins’ cocks. “You two planning on keeping this going all summer?”

Alex kissed his cousin’s cum-smeared lips. “Every weekend you’re free, cuz.”

Jordan nuzzled into Liam’s neck. “And next time we’re thinking of inviting a couple more lads from the rugby club…”

Mark chuckled deeply, pulling everyone closer. “You boys are going to turn this house into a proper fuck den.”

Ryan just groaned in agreement, already hardening again against Liam’s thigh. “And none of us are complaining.”
Liam laughed breathlessly. “Count me in. Fuck… I’m never leaving.”  

When I Stopped Waiting

VIII

The deeper I took his cock, the faster my anger melted away. Honestly, it was a fucking relief. Sergio was a degenerate, maybe even an addict, but that wasn't my fault. I hadn't opened his eyes to some new world of forbidden pleasures by seducing him; he had discovered all of that on his own, years ago.

As for the lies, Sergio actually had a point. I was a different person depending on who I was with, too. To Sergio, I was the gay best friend, hopelessly and eternally in love with him. To Marcos, I was the loving, devoted husband. And to Marta, I was the ultimate confidant. The guy who, no matter what happened, would never be crazy enough to sleep with her husband—which was exactly what I was doing right at that very second, all over again.

I was no better than Sergio. So there was no point in beating myself up over it. But there was definitely a point in sucking his fucking dick.

Besides, for some twisted reason, knowing that Sergio wasn't the innocent little angel I thought he was actually got me incredibly hot.

"Luis, believe me. You have the best mouth I've ever felt. You give a phenomenal fucking blowjob." As he said it, he reached down and pulled his balls back with both hands, forcing out a couple more inches of thick shaft just so I could choke on him exactly the way he liked.

And I did. I didn't choke, but I made room for his flesh, impaling myself on his cock, holding my breath, just reveling in the feeling of having his impressive shaft stuffing my mouth all over again. I felt him growing thicker and harder. It seemed like watching me take him so greedily was turning him on. I surrendered completely to the task, focusing only on the hot, heavy flesh pushing deep into my throat, refusing to think about anything else. I loved it when his balls slapped against my chin. It meant I was a perfect swallowing machine, especially considering the massive size he reached when he was genuinely turned on.

And with me, he was genuinely turned on—or at least, that's what I liked to tell myself. I had to tell myself that kind of shit so I could still stomach being with Sergio after everything he had done to me. And I needed to keep wanting him, because I still loved him.

"Let's take this to the bed," he said suddenly, pulling his thick shaft out of my mouth.

I tried to grab him, desperate not to be deprived of his cock for even a second. He just laughed and forced me to stand up.

"Let's go to the bed," he repeated. "We'll be more comfortable."

"I'm perfectly comfortable right here, thanks."

"Suit yourself. But I'm going to the bed."

I followed him, obviously.

He lay back, propping himself up against a pile of massive pillows, and pointed both index fingers right at his raging hard-on.

"Go ahead. Swallow."

I reminded myself that this was the bed where he fucked Marta. I wondered if he brought guys back here too, or if he kept his hookups outside the house.

"Swallow, you fucker," he urged.

I stripped my clothes off first, just to make him wait. He took the opportunity to stroke himself slowly, completely aware that I loved watching him do it. Once I was naked, I climbed onto the bed and crawled toward him on all fours, like a she-wolf, full-on Shakira style.

"You're a first-class slut," he told me, using the feminine word in Spanish.

I hated, hated, hated being referred to in the feminine. I despised those stories where some dominant guy grabs a kid, shoves his dick down his throat, and calls him a little bitch, a whore, or shit like that. But I realized that Sergio could say whatever the fuck he wanted. Absolutely anything that came out of his mouth was music to my ears.

"Come on, Luisito. Swallow my cock."

First, I dragged my tongue across his balls, and he shuddered.

"Swallow," he demanded again. The man had a one-track mind.

Then I buried my face in the crease between his right thigh and his balls, licking the sensitive skin.

"Come on, fucking swallow it," he growled.

I ran my hands up and down his legs while I sucked and licked all around his genitals.

"Swallow it already, for fuck's sake!" Sergio barked, his body writhing in pleasure. "Take my cock, you miserable fuck!"

I dragged my tongue briefly across the tip. He tried to thrust upward, chasing the friction, but I pulled back.

"I want your mouth on it. Now," he commanded.

Ignoring the order, I trailed my hand up to stroke his chest. He glared at me, dark and frustrated, yet his lips parted. The slight glimpse of his tongue was an open invitation. I leaned in and tasted him, slow and deliberate. My hand wrapped firmly around his length as I kissed him, my teeth grazing his lower lip. A heavy sigh spilled from him, straight into my mouth.

"Luisito…" he murmured.

I worked his zipper down further, and his breathing hitched. He crashed his mouth against mine—urgent, starving. As my hand stroked him, his strong fingers framed my face, gripping me tight.

"Luisito," he breathed out between heavy pants.

Suddenly, he shifted, forcing my head down toward his lap.

"I told you to take it," he ordered, his voice sharp and absolute.

He shoved my head down with ruthless precision, burying himself exactly where he wanted to be. The sheer dominance of it went straight to my head, intoxicating me.

"Take it!" he demanded. "Yeah, just like that. Now!"

I did exactly as I was told. My mouth full, barely able to breathe, but completely surrendered—utterly drunk on the heat and the closeness of him. He wouldn't stop forcing my head down, driven by a primal frenzy, grinding me against his massive cock while I struggled to take the sheer bulk of him. I gagged, feeling Sergio's control slipping, but I didn't give a fuck. I wanted more. I wanted him to impale me all the way down. Sergio eased up for a split second, pulling back just enough before burying himself even deeper into my throat. His grip on my head was brutal; it hurt, but the pain only spiked my arousal.

"Take it, fuck, take it," he demanded.

I pushed myself to the absolute limit.

"Take more, you can fit more," he insisted.

One hand kept shoving the back of my neck flush against his groin; the other wrapped around my own cock, jerking it with a rough, punishing grip.

"Take it, take it, take it," he repeated.

I lost all sense of time. All I knew was this twisted, euphoric high—I never wanted it to stop. I loved being his toy.

For a fleeting moment, I actually thought about leaving Marcos just to stay with Sergio. Not in his house, but in his bed. I wanted him to tie me up and use me, to fuck me whenever the urge hit him, to keep me locked away between sessions. For that one instant, desire pushed me completely over the edge. I was out of my mind with lust.

I swallowed, swallowed, and swallowed, choking on his cock.

"Spit on my dick," he barked.

His cock and balls were already slick with thick trails of saliva, so I didn't know why he needed more, but I spat on him like a good little whore.

"Now you're gonna find out what's good," he suddenly growled. He ripped his cock from my mouth, shoved me down with brutal force, and threw himself over me, his heavy frame crushing me completely.

For a terrifying second, the wind was knocked out of me. I thought he was going to snap one of my ribs. Then I felt his cock—absolutely monstrous against me—fighting to breach my hole, and it hit me: he was going to take me by force.

Sergio ground his hips erratically against me, completely out of his mind. A blinding flash of pain tore through me as he forced his way past my entrance. I fought with myself, desperate to make the right choice.

Finally, sanity won out. I have no idea where I found the strength, but I shoved him off me with a violent push.

"Not without a condom!" I yelled.

Sergio stared at me, completely dazed. His face was flushed dark red, the veins in his neck bulging. He didn't even look like himself. And without really knowing why, I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. It took Sergio a moment to process what had happened, but eventually, he pulled me into a tight embrace, holding me fiercely until my sobbing finally subsided.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he whispered into the quiet.

We lay there side by side. I could feel his cock pressing against my thigh. It was still rock hard. The guy wasn't even human. But then again, feeling my own dick getting hard just from his touch proved that I wasn't either.

"I'm married to a great guy," I said.

"I know," he replied.

"I shouldn't cheat on Marcos again. But if I do, it's going to be with a condom."

"We didn't use one in the park."

"In the park, I thought you were a guy who had been fucking the same woman for ten years and had never tasted anything else."

"I'm sorry, Luisito."

"Don't you ever lie to me again."

"I won't."

"Good. Because if you do, I'll fucking kill you."

"I'd let you."

"Bullshit."

He kissed me, trying to smooth things over, but my mind was already made up. I knew damn well I had to get the hell out of there.

"I'm leaving," I told him.

"You're not leaving."

"Yes, I am."

I got up and started hunting for my boxers around the room. He leaned back against the pillows, putting his rock-hard cock on full display.

"I'm still hard as a goddamn rock. You can't leave."

I ignored him, having just scooped my boxers off the floor.

Then he started jerking off. I tried not to look at him as I gathered the rest of my clothes. But as I grabbed my shirt, my eyes betrayed me and I looked back.

He was fondling his massive, hairy balls with one hand, while the other rubbed spit over the head of his cock. He writhed in pleasure, his dark eyes locked onto mine the entire time.

I put my shirt on. He coated the fingers of his left hand in spit, spread his legs a bit, and lifted his hips off the mattress. While his right hand kept stroking his cock, he dragged his slick fingers over his hole.

I pulled my pants on, desperately trying to hide the fact that I was fully hard again. He slipped a finger inside his hole, sliding it in and out agonizingly slow, while his right hand pumped his cock faster and faster.

I slipped my sneakers on, my eyes glued to him. Seeing he had me hooked, his pace quickened, jerking himself off with rougher, faster strokes.

Right as I was tying my laces, he started shooting his load. Sergio was a gorgeous man, but watching him come was something else entirely. I had never seen anything like it in my life. It completely scrambled my brain. I had to get the fuck out of there.

And I was dead set on never coming back.

On the walk home, I decided the only way out was to come clean to Marcos. If I told him the truth and he forgave me, I could force myself to cut Sergio out of my life for good. Sergio was too fucking dangerous for me.

I walked up the stairs, refusing to entertain any other options. Marcos needs to know. I owe him that much. Marcos needs to know.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside. Usually, I’d announce my arrival to the whole house, but I wasn't in the mood. Marcos was watching TV. He turned in his armchair to look at me, not bothering to get up.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

Something in my expression must have set off alarm bells, because he shot up from the chair and rushed over to hold me.

I buried my face in his chest, hesitation creeping in. But I had to tell him.

"Where were you? What happened?" he asked, his eyes locking onto mine, heavy with concern.

"I just came from Sergio's," I said, knowing he would understand exactly what that meant.

Marcos went completely rigid. He dropped his arms, stepping back from the embrace, and buried his face in his hands.

"I knew it. I fucking knew it."

I reached out to touch him, but he jerked away.

"I knew it," he repeated.

When he finally looked at me, his eyes were brimming with tears.

"I knew he’d tell you eventually. I was so sure he’d spill it. That son of a bitch. I don't even know how it happened, Luis. You have to believe me."

I just stared at him, completely paralyzed. My brain hadn't even begun to process what he was saying.

"I felt like absolute shit every time we hooked up, but I couldn't stop. I just kept going back for more. I don't know what it is about that guy, but he completely messed with my head. I'm so sorry, Luis. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Marcos backed into the kitchen and started thumping his head against the refrigerator door, sobbing uncontrollably, chanting apologies like a broken record.

And then, it finally clicked. I understood exactly what Marcos was telling me.

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Everyone is 18+

A dude on Grindr asked me to send him a dick pic. I have never really shown my dick to anyone but chicks my whole life. I have always been the straight jock who never even participated in those bro jerk off sessions because I thought it was the gayest shit ever disguised under the excuse that bros help each other out. Yet here I was, lying in my bed rock hard, scrolling through Grindr at two in the morning while my gay best friend slept five feet away.

Another message popped up from the same blank profile.

“Come on, show me your dick, Jason. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

My thumb hovered over the camera roll. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. This was stupid. This was so fucking stupid. But my cock was throbbing, leaking steadily into my boxers, and some twisted part of me wanted to know what a random guy would think of a straight guy’s cock.

I opened my hidden album and scrolled through the pictures I had taken of my dick last month and sent to a girl before coming to university. There it was. My cock looked thick and heavy even in the photos. Seven and a half inches when fully hard, with a slight upward curve, a fat mushroom head, and a thick vein running along the top. The skin was smooth, the shaft a shade darker than the rest of my body, and my balls hung heavy and full underneath. It looked good. Really fucking good. I laughed quietly to myself because I knew it was impressive. Years of football, lifting, and good genetics had paid off downstairs too.

I selected the first close up shot. The picture was taken from above, my hand wrapped around the base so the full length and thickness were obvious. The head glistened with a bead of precum at the slit. It looked powerful. Dominant. Exactly like a quarterback’s cock should look.

I sent it.

Then I hesitated for half a second before sending the second one. This was a full body selfie taken from below. My arm was stretched out, phone pointing upward. The shot started at my balls, moved up my thick cock, across my ripped abs, and ended at my flexed pecs. My chest looked carved, shoulders wide, arms pumped. The picture cut off right below my chin so no one could identify me. Still, it showed enough to make any chick stop scrolling.

Well my pecs look really fucking good in this, I thought. Might as well let the dude enjoy the whole view. Make sure he can give me a proper rating.

I sent both pictures and waited, stomach tight, cock twitching against my stomach.

The reply came almost instantly.

“9/10”

I let out a short laugh, half annoyed, half proud.

I typed back quickly. “Why a 9? What would make it a 10?”

The response popped up a few seconds later, filthy and direct.

“It would be a 10 when that thick jock cock is buried balls deep inside me. Caus baby I’m the 1 you need ;)”

I stared at the message, my dick jumping hard. Damn. Dudes were not bad at flirting at all. That one hit differently. Straight to the point, nasty in the best way. I could almost picture it, even though I told myself I should not.

I typed back, trying to play it cool. “Haha thanks. But I am not here to hookup. I am straight.”

I hit send and immediately felt stupid. Here I was, hard as steel, sending dick pics to a stranger on Grindr, and still trying to convince both him and myself that I was straight. I waited, breath shallow, one hand unconsciously palming my cock through my boxers while Percy slept peacefully across the room.

The next message came through.

“Sure you are, Jason. Straight guys always send two pictures of their hard cock to random dudes at 2am. Whatever helps you sleep at night…or not.”

I laughed under my breath, shaking my head. He had me there. My cock was leaking so much now that the front of my boxers was soaked. I gave myself one slow stroke, eyes glued to the chat, waiting to see what he would say next.

Then it came. A picture popped up in the chat.

An ass picture.

My eyes went wide.

It should have done nothing to me. Just another random photo on this stupid app. But the second it loaded my dick jumped so hard it smacked against my stomach with a soft wet sound.

The ass in the picture was perfect. A real bubble butt. Round, full, and smooth with just the right amount of curve. The cheeks were plump and firm looking, the kind that would jiggle when slapped. A faint line of soft dark hair ran down the center, disappearing into the deep cleft. The skin looked warm and slightly flushed like the guy had just been working out or fucking. It was the kind of ass that made you want to grab two handfuls, spread it open and eat it like you were starving.

My cock throbbed violently. I wrapped my hand around it without thinking and started stroking. Slow at first, then faster. This ass was even sexier than the curve and ass crack I had been getting hard to every night when Percy walked around the room. Shit. Imagine this ass on a chick. I would marry that girl and fuck her for the rest of my life.

I stroked faster, fist sliding up and down my precum dripping shaft, thumb rubbing over the sensitive head every time I reached the top. Precum poured out of me non-stop, making everything wet and noisy under the blanket. My balls felt tight and heavy. I could not look away from that perfect bubble butt on the screen.

Another message appeared right under the picture.

“Stroking to it, Jason?”

I typed back quickly with one hand, breathing hard.

“Nah. Just watching some porn.”

I hit send and kept stroking. My eyes stayed locked on that ass. Then a second picture loaded.

This one was even filthier. The guy had reached back and spread his cheeks wide. His pink hole was right there in the center, tight and smooth, winking slightly at the camera. The faint hair around it made it look even more tempting.

Fuck.

My cock oozed out a huge glob of precum. This was the first ass and hole picture on this entire app that truly made my dick lose control. And it was not even Percy’s. Maybe I just liked bubble butts that looked a little feminine but still had that bit of hair on them. I laughed quietly at myself, the sound shaky.

Hunter Calloway, you are so fucked up.

I kept stroking harder now, hips lifting off the bed, fist flying up and down my thick cock. The wet sounds were loud in the quiet room but I could not stop. My eyes stayed glued to that spread ass and that pretty pink hole. I imagined sliding my cock between those cheeks, pushing inside, feeling how tight and hot it would be.

My balls drew up tight. My toes curled. I came hard, biting my lip to stay silent. Thick ropes of cum shot into my underwear, soaking the fabric and running down over my balls and onto my thighs. Pulse after pulse kept coming while I kept pumping my fist, milking every drop. The orgasm hit me so strongly that I was almost about to moan.

When it finally slowed I was panting, chest heaving, cum making a complete mess inside my undies.

Another message popped up.

“Still awake?”

I did not reply. I closed the app fast, tossed my phone onto the mattress, and lay there for a minute trying to catch my breath. My underwear was destroyed. Warm cum was everywhere.

I got up quietly, careful not to wake Percy, and slipped into the bathroom. I cleaned myself up as best as I could, wiping the mess off my cock, balls, and thighs with toilet paper. When I came back into the room Percy had shifted again. He was sleeping on his stomach now, blanket draped over his legs. The curve off his butt was right there. Round. Perfect. Taunting me.

I climbed back into my own bed and pulled the covers up high. My heart was still hammering against my ribs. I whispered to myself in the dark, barely moving my lips.

I like feminine asses. That is not gay at all. Dudes are supposed to be turned on by bubble butts. It’s biology. It makes me more straight than ever. Plenty of straight guys like a nice ass. It does not matter if it is on a girl or... whatever. It is just an ass. Nothing more.

I repeated it a few more times in my head like a mantra, trying to convince myself it was true. The images from Grindr mixed with the memory of Percy’s ass during the massage. Both of them floating behind my eyelids.

Eventually my breathing slowed. The exhaustion from tryouts and the massive orgasm finally pulled me under.

I fell asleep with one last thought looping in my brain.

This does not mean anything. I am still straight. I am still Hunter Calloway.

Little did I know, Percy had been awake the entire time… listening to every single quiet stroke, every shaky breath, and every desperate whispered denial.

~

Read Next Part: #8 - Were You Jerking Off Last Night, Huntz?

>Jock and His Gay Best Friend - 24 Parts

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​

This happened like 1–2 years ago, I honestly can’t remember exactly when. Anyway, I remember having my first wet dream and it felt way too real. Keep in mind that I was — and still am — a VIRGIN 💀

The guy in the dream was a famous OF creator and let’s just say… he’s pretty massive.

If that had happened in real life, I probably would've been walking funny afterward 😭

The only position I remember was me lying on the bed on my left side with my legs bent, and he was behind me. Everything felt insanely realistic — the intensity, the warmth, even the whole body sensation.

I swear my brain put together a whole 4D experience for no reason 💀

We were both making sounds and everything felt ridiculously real.

I woke up sitting there like: how does my brain know all that when I’ve literally never experienced any of it?? 😭

When I Stopped Waiting

VI

That very same night, I showed up at Sergio's place, fully intending to set the record straight. My initial plan was to keep my mouth shut about following him to the beach, but things didn't exactly go according to plan—something I was quickly going to have to get used to when it came to him.

I knocked on his door around ten o'clock. He opened it completely butt-naked, which immediately threw me off balance.

"Hey, Luis!" he said, sounding surprisingly thrilled to see me, considering he’d been icing me out for weeks.

"You're naked."

"You coming in?"

He stepped aside, and I walked in. As I passed him, the back of my hand accidentally brushed against his cock.

"Is this how you greet all your guests now?"

"Only you. I happened to see you pull up and park. You want a drink?"

There was only one fucking thing I wanted to put my lips around right then, and it sure as hell wasn't a Coke. But I had come here to talk. So I asked for a beer and dropped onto the couch, desperately trying to keep my eyes off his heavy dick and maintain some shred of focus.

Sergio brought me the beer and sat down right across from me in his rolling desk chair. He spread his legs wide, making damn sure I had a perfect view of his heavy balls and his cock, which was already starting to get hard. It took everything I had to look him in the eye.

"We need to talk," I said, swallowing hard.

"Are you sure? Wouldn't you rather I lay this right on your tongue?" he asked, stroking his cock with a filthy, lazy rhythm.

"No," I answered, though I didn't sound convincing at all.

"You want me to put something on?"

"No, that's not necessary." I hated myself for being so fucking weak.

"Alright. I'm listening." He pulled back his foreskin, revealing a rock-hard head already slick with pre-cum. "Do you mind if I touch myself while we talk?"

"It's your house. I'm not going to tell you what to do."

"Good. So, what do you want to talk about?" he asked, thrusting his hips forward, putting his cock on display exactly like he had done at the beach for other eyes just a few hours ago.

"Exactly this."

"Sex?"

"Well... you have to admit your behavior lately has been a little strange."

"What's strange about it? I'm not doing anything I haven't already done with you."

"But you've been treating me like absolute shit all these weeks. I've tried to talk to you forty different times, and you've dodged me every single time."

"My wife left me. I was trying to process it. I didn't exactly feel like talking about it with you," he said calmly, casually fondling his balls.

"Well, your attitude has completely changed now."

"I just got over it."

"Well, it seems pretty fucking weird to me, what do you want me to say?"

He smiled. And it was a dangerous fucking smile.

Then he stood up, walked over, and pressed the thick shaft of his cock right against my nose.

I breathed in deep, filling my lungs with his raw, musky scent.

"So, you think it's strange that I'm putting my cock in your face?"

I nodded, taking the opportunity to brush the tip of my nose against the slick head of his dick.

"Do you think it's weird that I'm rubbing it against your lips?" he murmured, doing exactly that.

I nodded again, every single one of my senses completely hijacked by his heavy shaft.

He dragged his cock all over my face, tracing my eyes, my cheeks, and my forehead with that massive dick, teasing my lips with the coarse hair of his swollen balls.

"Well, I think it's strange that you aren't opening your mouth to swallow my entire cock."

Honestly, I thought so too. It was weird as fuck.

"That's what's strange," he continued, still rubbing himself against my face. "It's unnatural. Here's my cock. All you have to do is part your lips a little, and it's yours. You're dying to suck it, to take me so deep you choke on it."

I held my ground, keeping my lips pressed tight, even though I was savoring every single inch of his flesh against my skin.

"You're the one acting strange," he declared. And to my absolute misery, he sat back down in the rolling chair, depriving me of his touch, his scent, his pulse.

I was a split second away from begging him to come back and tempt me with his cock again, but I forced myself to hold back. He stared at me for a long time, that dangerous smile never leaving his face, his hand never stopping its slow rhythm on his shaft.

Finally, I forced myself to speak:

"But... do you even remember that night in the park?"

"Of course I remember. You're the one who doesn't seem to remember. That night, you didn't have any problem swallowing my cum. You sucked my cock like you were starving for it. I came in your mouth, pumped you full of my load, and then we kissed."

Everything he was saying was true, but the way he was saying it... It was like I was listening to a completely different person, not my Sergio.

"Are you bipolar or something?" I blurted out.

He laughed. A good sign, I guess.

"I'm just horny. Same as you. It turns me on seeing you sitting there, trying to play hard to get, when you're dying to give me one of your phenomenal blowjobs. It turns me on that I opened the door naked, and that I'm sitting here fondling my balls right in your face while you stammer. It turns me on to see you again. I've been dying to, but it just wasn't the right time."

"And now is the right time?"

"Well, you're here, aren't you?"

"I'm here," I admitted. "But I came to talk."

"You don't even believe that bullshit yourself," he said, standing up and planting his cock right against my mouth again.

I couldn't take it anymore. I gave the head of his dick a desperate, longing suck that tasted like absolute heaven. He thrust his hips forward and, exactly as he’d promised, filled my mouth with hot, throbbing flesh. I sucked him. I sucked his cock like it was my last day on earth, with a ravenous hunger that honestly scared me. Sergio fed me cock, and cock, and more cock, until I finally forced myself to stop and shoved him away.

He just laughed again.

"Play hard to get all you want. But you're not leaving here tonight without swallowing my cum."

I'm not leaving here tonight without talking to you, I told myself.

"I'm going to cum," he continued, his voice dropping lower. "A couple of thick ropes right on your tongue, so you can really taste it, and then I'll blast the rest all over your nose. You'll feel my thick cum sliding down to your lips. And you'll stick the tip of your tongue out to catch it."

"Today..."

"Today. Right fucking now. You're dying for it. Stop fighting it, Luis. You know it's going to happen."

"Today... I followed you to the beach."

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All characters are above the age of 18

Hey, I’m Nathan.  I just graduated from a university in the Midwest and my graduation gift was a trip, destination of my choice. I don’t mind traveling solo.  In fact, I like it.  I’m 5 ft 10 inches of corn-fed Kansas farm boy.  I’ve got brown hair and blue eyes and a pretty tight body.  I can fill out a speedo pretty well too.  I work out regularly and though I’m not jacked, I’m lean and toned.

I decided to go to Iceland and had an awesome time.  I toured for several days and saw amazing glaciers, waterfalls, and geysers. I was very interested in visiting one of their legendary hot spring spas.  I poked around online and found one not too far from where I was staying.  Their website noted that they were LGTBQ friendly.  I hadn’t gotten laid since I left for the trip so I pretty horny.  “Maybe I’ll get lucky,” I thought, “With all that near naked flesh out in the open, there are bound to be some other horny guys too.”

I checked in, was given a robe, a towel, and a key to a locker.  Everyone was required to shower before entering the pool. When I went into the men’s locker room, I was surprised to find that the showers were communal.  I enjoy open showers. In these days in America, they get rarer and rarer.  Thank goodness for those liberal Scandinavians.

I stuffed my clothes into my locker, grabbed my towel, and walked naked over to one of the showerheads coming out of the wall.  They were several men showering but a quick glance around left me uninspired. I had almost finished when a younger guy came in, maybe in his mid-20’s.  He kept his towel around him right until he reached a shower head on the wall opposite of me.  He turned his back to me, hung up his towel on a nearby hanger and turned the water on.  He had a very nice body.  Not heavily muscled but with perfect proportions.  Wide shoulders, narrow waist, and beautiful legs.  His hair was dark and I guessed that he was of Mediterranean descent.  His skin was olive colored, perfectly clear, almost luminous.  I’d put him at about my size, 5’9” and 150 pounds.  What really got me going was his ass.  I kid you not, I think it was the most beautiful ass I’ve ever seen on a man.  Plump and round, without being fat. It was firm and dimpled when he moved in the shower.  He also had a small tattoo of a teddy bear on the side of his left ass cheek.

I don’t know why, but that tattoo increased my attraction to him. It was a feast for my eyes to watch the rivulets of water run down his back. I suddenly realized I’d been ogling this guy for several minutes and wondered if any of the others in the shower noticed my staring.  Only two other guys remained.  One was drying himself while the third continued to shower.  Eventually they both left and it was just me and beautiful ass boy.  I still had not seen his face or family jewels, but I was hesitant to stay much longer, lest it become obvious to the attendants that I was a lurker.  Just then the guy turned off his shower and grabbed his towel. He dried himself and then wrapped the towel around his waist, depriving me of the view. Only then did he turn around.  He headed for the exit but looked over at me.  We made eye contact.  His eyes were green.  Mine are blue.  He had a really cute face and small patch of black hair on his chest.  He held my gaze for a moment, then his eyes dropped to waist…or to my cock I should probably say.

I’m an average guy in many ways.  I’m average height, have a decent build and have been described as “goofy cute,” by a twink I was flirting with recently.  Where I’m not average is the cock department.  I am above average in length and well above average in girth.  I’m cut and my cockhead is bigger than my shaft.  Not gonna lie,  I kind of like showing it off.

His eyes widened a bit when he saw what I was packing and I waggled my hips ever so slightly, making my cock sway lazily from side to side.  He glanced back up at my face and seemed embarrassed to have been caught cock watching.  He quickly looked away and resumed his way toward the lockers.  I had the impulse to follow him, but I didn’t, reasoning that he wasn’t really flirting and I didn’t want to be labeled a creeper.

I waited a few more minutes, stepped out of the shower, dried myself slowly, and went to my locker.  There was no sign of him, which both relieved and disappointed me.

I’ve had a lot of fun in locker rooms over the years.  I’ve had sex in steamrooms, saunas, hot tubs, and shower stalls.  Once I went to a work conference on the campus of a large state university.  I had read that the old athletic building could be cruisy, so I went jogging there.  Naturally I would need a shower afterward, so I headed to the locker room when I had finished.  It was large, old-fashioned, and needed a paint job. It smelled of dust, sweat, and steam. There were wooden benches between the rows of lockers.  There were so many cruisers in there you would have thought it was a gay bath house.  Man did I have some fun…but I digress.

At my locker I finished drying and put on my speedo.  I had cut the lining out so the outline of my cockhead would be clearly visible.  I know….I have no shame.  As a modicum of modesty, I did wear my robe when I walked from the locker room to the hot spring.  It was stunning.  The water was a brilliant blue, but it was opaque, due to the high mineral content.  The pool itself had been carved out of volcanic rock and was huge.  It wasn’t rectangular.  Instead, it was comprised of little irregularly shaped pools formed by the natural rock, which all connected to a large central pool.  Steam rose from the water and there were probably 100 bathers, but it didn’t feel crowded, because it was so large.  There were people of all ages and races and everybody seemed to be having a good time.  There was a swim up bar, a station for mud masks, and a meditation grotto.  Scattered around the edges of the pools were little cabanas, maybe 8 ft square.

I looked around to see if I could spot my shower partner, but did not.  I put my robe and towel on nearby lounge chair, putting my overly stuffed speedo briefly on view.  I waded into the warm water and shuddered with delight.  Just the right temperature and with a slightly viscous feel.   I sank to my neck and duck walked out into a deeper part, when I could stand with water to my waist.

It was then that I caught sight of the boy from the shower.  He was with a group of six young men about his age and they were laughing and splashing and clearly full of themselves.  Two were blonde and fair, one was black, two more had brown hair and medium skin tone, and then there was teddy bear ass, with his wonderful olive coloring.  They were young and thin, all wearing speedos and I would have enjoyed a romp with any of them.  They had kind of a collective cockiness about them, like they knew they were beautiful and the subject of many an admiring eye.  Teddy bear was standing with one the blondes in profile.  The blonde had his back to me.  Teddy bear glanced over and saw me, and then elbowed his friend and whispered something to him.  The blonde turned around and looked at me, then quickly looked away. They both giggled like school girls.  I was certain that the subject of my cock had already been discussed among them.

I reached down into the water and squeezed myself a few times.  I then purposely spent a few minutes thinking about the fun I’d had in that university locker room.  My cock inflated in my swimsuit.  I then got out of the pool, and walked slowly to my chaise, my bulge proudly leading the way.  The two boys looked, then all six looked.  I sat down and smiled over at them smugly.  They all turned away, except Teddy Bear.  He held my gaze for five seconds or so and then turned, whispered something to his blond companion.  He then began a slow leisurely walk toward the bath house.

This time I followed him.  He knew I was.  He’d glanced over his shoulder twice as if I needed encouragement.  He entered the bath house and headed toward the urinals.  Again, I was thankful about the lack of modesty among the Scandinavians, because there were no partitions between them.  He walked up to a urinal and made a show of untying the draw string in his speedo.  I slowly sidled up beside him and did the same.  My big cock flopped out.  I made no pretense of needing to pee.  I just stood there and stroked it until it was almost fully hard.  He watched out of the corner of his eye and then turned slightly and gazed at me directly.  His own cock was out and it was uncut and definitely respectable, getting hard quickly.  Soon it was at full mast, jutting away from his body at a 45 degree angle and his foreskin had retracted to reveal a deep pink head. He looked from my cock to my face and then said something I didn’t understand.  It was in a Germanic sounding language.  Could have been any of several, none of which I spoke.  I shook my head and said, “I’m sorry.”  He tried again using a somewhat different sounding tongue, but again, I was unable to understand at all.  He smiled, nodded his head sideways and crooked his finger at me to say, follow me.

We both tucked ourselves away and I let him lead me out of the bathhouse, to where I did not know.  He headed back to the pool, not looking back, and then to one of the cabanas scattered along the rim of the pool.  When he reached one, he unzipped the canvas door and stepped inside.  Then he beckoned for me to come in as well.  I pushed the flap open and went in.  Teddy Bear stood beside a small cot, and to my surprise, his blonde friend was there too, sitting in a wicker chair.  Well, well, I thought. This is my lucky day.

They had a short exchange and then the blonde pulled out his phone, said something into it,  and then hit translate.  He held the phone up for me to read.  “He would like to do oral sex on your penis” it said.  I chuckled a bit at the formality of his request. It was as if he were ordering a coffee.

He pointed to himself and said, “Rolf,” then to his companion, and said “Latta.”   Of the two, Rolf had the air of the alpha.  He stood about six feet and had blonde hair long enough to have a waviness to it.  He was lanky, fair and hairless, with a flat stomach and defined pecs.  He reminded me of an Olympic swimmer.

 I took a step forward, planted my feed wider apart, put my hands behind my back, and thrust my hips forward a little.  Words weren’t really required, but I said “Permission granted,” anyway, looking at Rolf.  Rolf simply nodded at Latta, who moved toward me, dropped to his knees, and pressed his nose against my speedo.  He licked and nipped my bulge through the thin fabric and put his mouth on my cockhead.  I felt the warmth of his breath on me. Soon my speedo was wet from his saliva.  Rolf moved over to stand just behind me, looking over my shoulder, and seemed to be enjoying the show.

I looked down and saw that Latta’s saliva had made my white speedo almost translucent and that my cock was clearly visible through it. I was so hard that the waistband had begun to stretch the fabric so far that it began to pull away from my body.  Latta’s fingers slipped inside the waistband and touched me directly, while Rolf reached around fingered my nipples.  Latta looked up at me as if for permission, then grasped my swimsuit with both hands and slowly pulled it down.  My nine inches leapt out and bounced in front of them. He was wide-eyed and rapt for a few seconds, letting me proudly hang there like a monument as he stared at it.  He had the unmistakable look of cock lust in his eyes.  I had often felt it too.  Then Rolf moved around me and knelt beside his companion.   Almost reverently,  Rolf reached out and touched me, slowly wrapping his hand around the base of my shaft.  He looked at Latta and nodded and Latta leaned forward and put his lips on my cock.  It was now definitely clear who called the shots.  Rolf was in charge of this duo and Teddy Bear Latta was his sub.  I didn’t really care, but knowing the dynamics meant I could use them to maximize my pleasure. 

Latta kissed my big head and licked up and down my shaft. Rolf watched.  Latta licked my head and then opened wide to take it in. Rolf put his hand on the back of Latta’s head and pushed it forward, slowly.  Inch by inch, the kid took my shaft in his mouth and then his throat.  Rolf pushed further and Latta began to gag.  He still had two inches to go but he had reached his breaking point.  Rolf let him pull back and then pushed him to suck me slowly, up and down, without reaching the gagging point.  Rolf’s hand slipped down the back of Latta’s swimsuit and he began to finger his companion.  Latta was eagerly sucking me, but he was also clearly enjoying being stimulated anally and gasped and whimpered when his partner’s finger went inside him.

Rolf suddenly stood up and pulled down his red speedo.  His uncut phallus jumped out.  It was about 7 inches and his dark red cock head looked menacing.  He moved over to stand beside me, so that Latta now had two cocks to service.  I looked over at Rolf and our eyes met.  I leaned over and kissed him.  His mouth opened eagerly to accept my tongue and his hands explored my body.  Latta continued to give me excellent head, while also kneading my balls.  Rolf sucked at my tongue while he pinched my nipples with one hand tickled my anus and taint with the other.  How lucky was I to have these two boys doing all they could to please me?

Rolf said something to Latta.   His mouth was full of my cock, so a garbled, “Umph” was all he could say.  Rolf knelt down and pulled his partner off my cock, which he then slowly took into his own mouth, while he maintained eye contact with Latta.  I knew I was being objectified.  I wasn’t a person.  I was a huge cock these boys wanted to share.  After sucking me a few seconds, Rolf pulled back and pointed my cock again at Latta, this time slapping his face with it.  A dollop of pre-cum had gathered on my head and Latta leaned forward to lick it.  As he pulled back, a string of the sticky stretched between his mouth and my cock. Two boys were in cock heaven.

Rolf then pushed Latta onto his back on the floor of the tent and Latta put his legs high in the air. His hole was pink and hairless. Rolf put on a show for me of teasing his boyfriend’s anus with his fingers and tongue, stopping every few seconds to show it to me.  He spat on it and rubbed the wad of saliva around, making it glisten.  He said something and nodded at me.  I didn’t understand the words but the meaning was perfectly clear.  He was presenting his boyfriend’s ass for me to fuck.  Who was I to refuse?

I knelt in front of Latta, whose legs remained high, knees to his chest.  I grabbed him by the hips and pulled him close to me.  Rolf leaned down and spat on my cock and smeared the spit around for lube.  He held my cock and guided me forward, inserting me slowly.  Latta whimpered when the head of my cocked popped in.  Rolf released my cock and I sunk myself deeper into his partner.  Latta moaned and whined.  One thing that turns me on is a bottom that whimpers like a girl and I was discovering that Latta was very vocal.  I started to push in and out slowly and he began keening every time my cock was all the way in.

Rolf remained the director and seemed to enjoy his boyfriend’s helpless position.  Kneeling beside him, he pinched the boy’s brown nipples hard and he yelped in pleasured pain.  Rolf moved up and put his fat uncut cock in Latta’s mouth.  Latta sucked hungrily at it, then took Rolf’s balls in his mouth one at a time, while Rolf cock slapped him.  Rolf muttered some things, presumably to Latta, who replied with what sounded affirmative noise, though it was hard to tell because his mouth was stuffed with Rolf’s thrusting cock.  Rolf turned to me and smiled.  He put his hand behind my neck and pulled me to him in a kiss.  His mouth tasted sweet and his tongue aggressively wrestled with mine.  It was such a hot moment.  All three of us were pleasuring and being pleasured at the same time.  Rolf broke the kiss and pulled back.  He stood and walked behind me and lay on the ground with head just under my ass. I spread my knees wider and he proceeded to lick my balls and taint which felt amazing.  With a cock no longer in his mouth, Latta was once again verbal, imploring me with words I didn’t need to understand.  He was furiously pulling on his own cock and his other hand roamed the muscles of my chest and abdomen.  Rolf’s treatment of my balls was feeling great, but it suddenly stopped and I could not see what he was doing.  I felt hot breath on my neck and realized he was kneeling right behind me.  He put his mouth up to my ear and stuck his tongue in, then licked and nipped at my neck.  I felt a warm finger probe my asshole and I momentarily tensed.  Rolf put the finger to his mouth and spit on it, then began to rub my hole in a circular motion.  The pressure felt good and I eventually relaxed enough for him to insert his finger again.  He murmured some more words that sounded like a question to me.  I simply nodded.  I already knew what was coming next.  Rolf put the blunt head of his against my asshole.  It felt warm and I momentarily stopped pumping Latta, so Rolf could penetrate me fully.  He pushed his head into me and gave me a few seconds to relax before he sunk himself all the way in.

I had never been part of a “daisy chain” before, but I’d seen it in porn videos and wondered what it would be like to be the gay in the middle. It was awesome.  Once Rolf was in me, I began to move slowly feeling myself simultaneously sinking deeply into Latta, while pulling myself forward until just the head of Rolf’s cock was in me, then feeling the reverse when I thrust backward.  I was in total control.  The boys were basically motionless and I did all the thrusting, fucking the boy and then fucking myself by impaling myself on the other’s cock. Rolf ran his hands down my back, over my shoulders and around to my chest to play with my nipples.  He again put his mouth near me ear, but this time growled guttural words that I’m certain were intended to provide encouragement.  He leaned over my shoulder and spat on Latta, whose moans and howling were certainly being heard by the people outside.

With both my cock and my prostate being wonderfully stimulated I knew I wouldn’t last too much longer. My companions were breathing pretty heavily too.  I didn’t know how to communicate that I was about to unload, so I just moaned loudly.  I felt so good, totally immersed in the physical act and my mind was blank. I only knew that I needed to nut deep into this boy.  The pangs of pleasure heightened and became white hot.  Then I was coming and coming, fucking harder than I ever have.  Latta’s whimpering became almost a howl as he furiously pounded his cock. His balls had drawn up so tight they almost disappeared inside his groin.  He arched his back and his eyes rolled up in his head and his hot sperm spurted out and coated his stomach and chest.  He must have shot 7 or 8 jets.  Spent, I slowed my thrusting and Rolf took over.  He grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head up hard.  While he pounded me, he chewed on my neck and growled deep in his throat. Then he was climaxing, his thrusts slowing down but slamming himself into my ass harder and harder.  Then, with a final violent stroke he sunk all the way in me and stayed.  His weight fell on my back and we both tumbled down onto Latta, my cock still inside him and Rolf’s still inside me.  We were a sweaty heaving pile of boy flesh and we stayed that way a long time, until our breathing returned to normal, our cocks softening while our assholes oozed cum. 

Eventually Rolf pulled himself off me and I pushed myself up so Latta could scoot out from under.  Latta rose to his knees and kissed my stomach lightly.  When he looked up at me, there was a huge grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye.  Rolf wrapped his arms around from behind me in bear hug and squeezed.  His kissed the back of my neck and then released me.   We stood there awkwardly for a moment, then all laughed.  I found my speedo and slipped it back on.  I gave them both a wink and let myself out of the cabana.  A few people nearby gave me the side eye and one or two snickered, but I was in such post-nut bliss I didn’t care.  I made my way back to the bath house to shower off some of the smell of sex.  When I passed a full length mirror in the dressing room, I saw that my skin was red in places, my hair was crazy, and my lips looked bruised.  Worst of all was the huge angry hickey on my neck.  I hope I packed a turtleneck.

🔞Everyone is 18+.

Sunlight sliced through the thin dorm curtains, hitting me square in the face and yanking me from a night of fractured dreams.

My cock was rock-hard, tenting the sheet like a flagpole, replaying that midnight show on loop — Thorne's fist pumping his thick shaft, those green eyes locking onto mine in the dark, challenging me right back.

I shifted, trying to ease the ache without rustling too much, but the memory had me leaking already, a wet spot blooming on my boxers.

Kieran stirred first, groaning as he rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. Water ran, then he was back, slapping my foot. 'Rise and shine, Jace. Coffee run? Thorne's got practice, but he'll be back by noon.'

I mumbled agreement, eyes flicking to the other bed. Thorne lay sprawled on his stomach, sheet twisted low around his hips, exposing the deep dimples at the base of his spine and the swell of his ass cheeks. His breathing was steady, but I wondered if he'd slept any better than me after that stare-down.

We grabbed styrofoam cups from the campus cafe, steam rising as Kieran rambled about his crush on some girl from psych class.

I nodded along, but my mind was elsewhere — plotting how to corner Thorne alone, to turn that spark into a full-on inferno.

Back in the room, Kieran ditched me for a study group, leaving the door unlocked with a casual 'Don't burn the place down.' The second it clicked shut behind him, anticipation coiled in my gut.

I stripped down to shower, letting the hot water pound my skin, soaping up my chest and down to my throbbing dick. Stroking slow, I imagined Thorne's hand instead — rough and insistent, guiding me to my knees.

A knock rattled the door just as I rinsed off, and I wrapped a towel around my waist, water dripping down my legs. 'Yeah?' I called, voice steady despite the pulse hammering in my veins.

It swung open, and there he was — Thorne, fresh from practice, gym bag slung over one shoulder, tank top soaked with sweat and clinging to every ridge of his torso. His shorts rode low, pubic hair peeking above the waistband, and the scent of him hit me: salty exertion mixed with that raw male musk.

'Forgot my key,' he muttered, eyes dropping to my towel, lingering a beat too long on the outline of my semi-hard cock before flicking up to my face. No blush, no awkwardness — just a flicker of something heated in his gaze.

'All yours,' I said, stepping aside, close enough that my arm brushed his. Electricity zinged where our skin connected, and I swear his breath hitched.

He dumped his bag and peeled off his tank in one fluid motion, revealing a chest heaving from the workout — nipples peaked from the cool air, a sheen of sweat tracing the valleys between his pecs.

I watched, unashamed, as he toed off his sneakers and shucked his shorts, standing there in nothing but tight black briefs that cupped his heavy balls and the semi outline of his dick.

He caught me staring, a smirk tugging his lips. 'What? Never seen a guy change before?' His voice was low, teasing, but there was an edge to it — like he was testing the waters, remembering last night.

I shrugged, dropping my towel without breaking eye contact, my cock springing free, half-erect and curving up toward my abs.

'Not one built like you,' I shot back, voice rough. His eyes darkened, tracing the length of me, and I saw his briefs twitch, the fabric stretching as he thickened.

The air thickened, charged, as he hooked his thumbs in his waistband and shoved them down. His cock flopped out, heavy and uncut, hanging thick over those full balls, already swelling from the proximity. Veins pulsed along the shaft, the foreskin partially retracted to show a glimpse of the flushed head.

He didn't cover up, just stood there, letting me drink him in, his own gaze fixed on my hardening length. 'Shower's free,' he said finally, but it came out husky, like an invitation wrapped in nonchalance.

I stepped past him into the tiny bathroom, our bodies grazing — chest to chest, hip to hip, cocks brushing in a fleeting, electric contact that made us both suck in air. The door stayed half-open as I turned on the water again, steam billowing out.

Through the fogged mirror, I saw him hesitate, then follow, leaning against the sink like he needed the support. 'Mind if I...?' He trailed off, but his hand was already on his dick, giving it a lazy squeeze.

'Go for it,' I replied, stepping under the spray, letting it cascade over me. My back was to him, but I knew he was watching — felt his stare burning into my ass as I soaped up, bending slightly to lather my thighs.

The vulnerability amped the heat; I stroked myself openly now, fist gliding over my slick shaft, moaning low enough for him to hear. A rustle behind me, then his breathing quickened.

Glancing over my shoulder, I caught him at it — hand wrapped tight around his cock, pumping slow and deliberate. Precum beaded at his slit, dripping down as he twisted his wrist on the upstroke.

Our eyes met in the mirror, and this time, there was no pretense. 'Fuck, you're hung,' I growled, turning to face him fully, water sluicing down my body. He didn't flinch, just stroked harder, his abs contracting with each pull, balls drawing up tight.

'Yeah? You too, man. Didn't expect... this.' His free hand braced the wall, knuckles white, as his pace faltered, hips bucking into his grip.

I shut off the water, stepping out dripping, closing the distance until our cocks nearly touched. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, his skin flushed, sweat mixing with the steam.

'Last night,' I said, voice low, 'you put on quite the show.' His hand slowed, but didn't stop, thumb circling his leaking head. 'You watched. Didn't look away.' A challenge, his green eyes boring into mine, pupils blown wide.

I reached out, bold as hell, tracing a finger along his inner thigh, up to the crease where leg met groin. He shuddered, cock jumping in his fist, but he didn't pull back.

'What if I want more than a show?' I murmured, my own hand joining his on my dick, stroking in time with the tension crackling between us. His breath came ragged, lips parting as he leaned in closer, the tip of his cock brushing mine — hot, velvet steel sending jolts straight to my core.

For a split second, I thought he'd bolt, call it off. But then his free hand clamped my shoulder, fingers digging in, pulling me nearer.

'Shit, Jace... this is fucked up.' Yet his strokes matched mine now, synchronized, our shafts sliding together in the space between us, slick with precum. The friction was maddening — his thicker girth pressing against my length, heads nudging with each thrust of our hips.

We didn't kiss, didn't cross that line yet, but the grind built fast, grunts filling the humid air. His balls slapped lightly against mine, the sound obscene and fueling the fire.

'Gonna cum,' he rasped, eyes squeezing shut, hand flying over his cock. I nodded, pumping furiously, the pressure coiling until it snapped — ropes of cum shooting from me, splattering his abs, mixing with his sweat. He followed seconds later, groaning deep, seed erupting in thick spurts that hit my thigh, warm and sticky.

We stood there panting, cocks softening in our grips, the reality sinking in. He released me first, stepping back, a flush creeping up his neck.

'That... didn't happen,' he muttered, but the way his eyes lingered on the mess we'd made said otherwise. I smirked, grabbing a towel to wipe us clean. 'Sure it didn't. But next time?'

He dressed quick, avoiding my gaze, but as he headed for the door, Kieran’s key turned in the lock outside. Thorne froze, then shot me a look — wary, aroused and intrigued. The game was on, and fuck, it was just getting started.

I bet this turned you on. 😏You know where to find more of it. 😈

When I Stopped Waiting

V

It had been about a month since our late-night encounter in the park. And despite all the heavy shit we’d confessed to each other under the stars, I hadn't seen Sergio since.

That’s a lie. I did run into him at the supermarket about two weeks after our perfect night, but the second he spotted me, he quietly ducked down the frozen food aisle like a coward. At the time, watching him run away had actually made me smile. But now, the desperate, gnawing need to pick up exactly where we left off had wiped that smile right off my fucking face.

At first, I figured he just needed time for the panic to wear off. I was more than used to his erratic, passionate mood swings by now. I love you, I don't love you. I want to fuck you, I hate myself. The usual cycle. But the days kept dragging on, my phone stayed dead silent, and I was starting to get exhausted. I honestly didn't know if I was just tired of waiting for him, or if I was finally getting tired of loving him.

I had already made up my mind to go over there, to back him into a corner and force his hand, when Marcos dropped the bombshell.

"How long has it been since you saw Sergio?" he asked, his tone deceptively casual as he scrolled through the news online.

"It's been a while," I answered carefully, keeping my voice steady. "Why?"

"Because Marta moved back in with her parents. They're separating."

I froze. I think I took way too long to manage a weak, "Holy shit, I had no idea."

Marcos shot me a sideways glance, his face dead serious. I was already getting used to his constant suspicion. Deep down, he knew. He knew something was going on between Sergio and me. And right now, he was wondering if Sergio and Marta splitting up had anything to do with it.

I stepped up behind him and started massaging his shoulders. Marcos closed his eyes and leaned into the touch while I murmured that something like that would never happen to us. But all I could think about was that I needed to see Sergio immediately.

I called his cell that afternoon, and we had a shockingly dull, empty conversation. When I asked about Marta, he changed the subject. When I told him I wanted to see him, he gave me some vague excuse and hung up on me less than ten seconds later.

A few days later, I showed up at his house unannounced. We talked at the door. Meaning, he didn't even let me inside. I tried to push all the burning questions—what happened with Marta? What happened to all that beautiful shit you told me that night? Why haven't you called me?—but he shut me down instantly. In fact, he practically slammed the door in my face.

His cold indifference, his absolute refusal to face the consequences of his own actions, infuriated me. Every passing day, I got a little more pissed off, while simultaneously dying to see him. I started showing up at his house at all hours, though most of the time I just sat in my car watching. That’s how I figured out Marta had taken the dog, because Sergio never came out to walk it.

I also noticed Sergio had joined a gym and reconnected with some old buddies. He was hitting the bar across the street for beers about four nights a week, always with the same three guys I only knew by sight.

Then came that particular Saturday. I was parked a safe two hundred yards down the street from his front door. It was around eleven, the time he usually hit the gym on weekends, and the sun was beating down like a motherfucker. I was ready to confront him, to force him to fucking listen to me. Turning into a borderline stalker was shredding my nerves, and it had to end.

But when he walked out of his house, he wasn't carrying his gym bag. He had a massive beach towel draped over his shoulders. He climbed into his car, completely oblivious to me, and pulled away.

And I figured, fuck it. If I’ve already been parked outside his house day and night, following him to the beach isn't going to cross any new lines. I could even wait until he got in the water, lay my towel down near his—I always keep a spare in the trunk—and let him think fate just happened to throw us together.

Surely he’d be happy to see me. If I played my cards right, maybe we’d end up fucking like animals, and then I could finally wring some answers out of him.

So I tailed him, making sure to keep one or two cars between us on the road. To my surprise, we ended up driving for almost fifty minutes, which made zero sense considering we had gorgeous beaches and coves barely five minutes from his house—one of the perks of living on an island.

When he finally pulled into what looked like a campsite parking lot, I panicked for a second, terrified he’d spot me. I parked a good distance away and waited until he disappeared into the woods before getting out of my car. Honestly, I had no fucking clue where we were. Marcos and I always went to the exact same beach; I rarely bothered exploring anywhere else.

I started tailing him down a network of dirt trails winding through pine trees and thick brush, hanging far enough back that if he suddenly turned around, he wouldn't be able to recognize me. Eventually, the pines thinned out, and the trails started snaking through sand dunes. I could hear the ocean now, even though I couldn't see it yet.

At one point, Sergio veered off into the heavy underbrush, moving away from the sound of the waves, pushing through narrower, overgrown paths until he reached a sort of natural shelter. The trees had grown together to form a wide, shaded canopy, completely hidden from prying eyes—though, to be fair, we hadn't crossed paths with a single soul the entire hike.

I crept around the edge of this makeshift cabin, careful not to make a sound, until I found a slightly elevated spot where I could spy inside without being seen. Sergio was laying his towel out at the base of a thick tree trunk, clearly planning to lean back against it.

I didn't see a book in his hands. Maybe he was just planning to kill time on his phone.

I was genuinely stunned when he kicked off his sneakers, pulled off his shirt, and shoved his shorts down, stripping completely naked. He sat down on the towel, leaned his bare back against the rough bark of the tree, and immediately started fondling his cock, slowly cupping and stroking his balls until he coaxed out a brutal, rock-hard erection.

I was just starting to wonder if this was pure coincidence, or if Sergio had actually spotted me tailing him and was putting on this filthy show just for me, when I heard footsteps approaching the clearing fast.

Sergio had to have heard them too, but he didn't flinch. He just kept slowly stroking his cock, his eyes locked dead on the entrance.

Fuck. Maybe he was meeting someone. I felt like an absolute idiot and pressed myself deeper into the brush. If I got caught spying on them now, I’d die of fucking embarrassment.

The footsteps slowed as they neared the opening of the canopy. Sergio shifted his hips away from the trunk to get a better angle, spread his legs wider, and thrust his pelvis forward, putting his rock-hard cock on full display for whoever was about to walk in. You could tell the exhibitionism was turning him on like crazy.

A head poked through the entrance. It was a guy in his mid-thirties—tall, lean, and clearly a tourist. He froze, watching in absolute silence as Sergio spit a thick wad of saliva into his palm and slathered it all over his thick shaft. The tourist stood there mesmerized, groping his own bulge through his pants, not missing a single second of Sergio’s filthy display, but clearly too intimidated to actually step inside that natural little living room.

I watched them both from my hiding spot, completely concealed and hard as a fucking rock.

It suddenly hit me. Sergio hadn't arranged to meet anyone here. This was a cruising beach. The guy was coming out here just to put on a show. He had turned into a total fucking cock-tease.

I honestly didn't know if I was pissed off or not, but watching him do that right in front of a total stranger was fucking priceless.

Then, more footsteps approached. The tourist tensed up but didn't move an inch, while Sergio looked like he was in his absolute element, spitting on his cock again and stroking it with deliberate, agonizing slowness. The tourist stepped aside to let the newcomer through. It was a guy around forty, probably Spanish. He had a terrible, thick mustache and a stocky, heavy build, his shirt hanging completely unbuttoned. Judging by the look of him, I’d guess he was a cabbie or a bus driver taking a quick break.

He completely ignored the tourist and closed the distance to Sergio in three long strides. I wondered if the guy’s aggressive approach was going to piss my friend off, but once again, Sergio completely floored me. Still sitting there, he stuck his tongue out, locked eyes with the newcomer, and started jerking himself off even faster.

The cabbie dropped his pants in a split second. He was going commando. He shoved his cock—dark, thick, and heavy—right up to Sergio’s face, and Sergio dragged his tongue straight up the foreskin.

I was absolutely stunned.

The cabbie shifted to the side so Sergio could suck him off while giving the tourist at the entrance a perfect view of the action. And Sergio went to town, sucking the cabbie’s dick with a ravenous hunger, all while keeping up that slow, sensual rhythm on his own cock, keeping the tourist completely mesmerized.

The cabbie got rock-hard fast. He had a seriously impressive cock and a pair of hairy balls that were soon slapping wetly against my friend’s chin. Sergio just kept swallowing and swallowing, drooling so much that thick trails of spit were running down the corners of his mouth.

The cabbie started pinching his nipples, and Sergio completely lost his fucking mind, taking the guy's cock down his throat like an absolute animal. Meanwhile, the tourist couldn't take it anymore. He whipped out a shaved, pale-white dick and started jerking himself off, taking a timid little step toward them every now and then—a move the other two were completely oblivious to.

Sergio was deep-throating the guy like his life depended on it, speeding up the strokes on his own shaft, drooling and writhing in pure ecstasy. The cabbie was ruthlessly face-fucking him, showing zero mercy, while the tourist kept inching closer and closer. I couldn't help myself. I pulled my own cock out and started stroking it, because watching them was getting me so fucking hot I was about to explode.

It went on like that for a few minutes. Sergio was an absolute mess of spit. The cabbie pinched his nipples harder and harder, burying his thick shaft all the way down Sergio's throat, clearly realizing that the rough treatment was driving my friend absolutely wild—a fact I knew all too well.

For a second, it looked like the tourist was going to try and slide his pale dick in right next to the cabbie's, but he must have sensed the older guy wasn't exactly in the mood to share that mouth. So he settled for stepping up to Sergio's other side, slapping his cock against my friend's cheek and jerking off right next to his ear.

The cabbie started groaning, "Oh, yessss, oh, yessss," a clear sign he was right on the edge, and those raw, guttural shouts sent all of us into overdrive. He sped up his brutal face-fucking, his voice getting louder with every violent thrust, twisting Sergio's nipples while my friend turned into a deranged, mindless swallowing machine. All the while, Sergio kept taking wet slaps to the cheek from the tourist, who was now jerking off at a frantic pace.

And then, almost in perfect unison, they all came.

The cabbie started blowing his load right down Sergio's throat. After shooting two thick ropes into his mouth, he pulled out and blasted the rest all over Sergio's forehead. At the exact same time, the tourist started shooting thick, heavy ropes of cum into Sergio's ear and hair, while Sergio himself finally blew his own load all over his chest, his body convulsing with pleasure.

For a few seconds, both the cabbie and the tourist just stood there, rubbing their softening cocks all over my friend's cum-slicked face. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, they both decided they’d had enough, zipped up, and bolted in a matter of seconds.

Sergio just sat there, licking his lips, completely unaware that I was hiding in the brush and had watched the entire fucking thing.

Five minutes passed. Sergio didn't move a muscle, and neither did I. Then, finally, he stood up. Without even bothering to grab his clothes or his towel, he walked straight out of the canopy, completely naked.

I stayed exactly where I was and waited for about fifteen minutes. During that time, two other guys poked their heads through the entrance of the natural cave, spotted Sergio's towel and clothes lying there, and just kept walking.

Then Sergio reappeared, his body dripping wet. He had gone down to the beach to take a dip and wash all the cum off. I figured he was going to grab his shit and leave, but instead, he shook out his towel and laid it flat on the ground. He rolled up his shorts and shirt to make a makeshift pillow, then lay down flat on his stomach.

He stayed like that for a few minutes. I actually thought he had fallen asleep. But the second the sound of approaching footsteps started crunching over the bed of pine needles, Sergio bent his knees and hiked his ass up in the air. Not exactly a comfortable sleeping position.

A guy around my age poked his head through the opening. When he saw what was waiting for him inside, he stepped in and gave Sergio a hard smack on the ass cheek.

"Hey, you're back!"

Sergio smiled at him but didn't change his position.

"What have you been up to today?" the guy asked, dropping to his knees and tossing his beach bag to the side.

"I got my face fucked."

"Happy ending?"

"Two guys blew their loads all over my face."

"Wow. And you're still looking for action?"

"Always," Sergio murmured, hiking his ass up just a little bit higher, waiting.

The new guy, who clearly knew Sergio from previous visits, unzipped his shorts and pulled out the tip of his cock. While he started teasing his own foreskin with his fingers, he leaned in close to the ass Sergio was offering up and dragged his tongue right across his sphincter. Sergio shuddered, and I instantly started getting hard all over again.

"You went for a swim," the guy noted.

Sergio just nodded.

"Many people down there?"

"Packed."

"God, what a fucking ass."

"Thanks."

The guy went to work, giving my Sergio a rimjob I would have killed to have for myself. After licking him thoroughly, he made Sergio hike his ass up even higher and started sucking on his balls. I was about to fucking explode. Sergio, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying it in a completely relaxed, almost peaceful way. He had this sweet, serene expression on his face.

I almost hated myself for starting him down this path. Sergio was giving himself to absolutely everyone now—everyone except me. But that bitter thought didn't kill my erection, and it sure as hell didn't stop me from jerking myself off relentlessly, not missing a single detail of what that greedy fucker was doing to him.

After sucking his balls and going back for another round on his ass, the guy told Sergio to flip over. Once Sergio was flat on his back, the guy settled between his legs and locked his lips onto his cock, which was fully at attention again. He started blowing him incredibly slowly, clearly savoring Sergio's thick shaft, weighing his balls in his hand, and occasionally sliding a finger slowly into his hole, making Sergio writhe in pure pleasure.

I didn't stick around to see how that blowjob ended. After almost half an hour, I finally gave up; my balls were aching like a motherfucker. I came in absolute silence, shooting a surprisingly massive load into the dirt, and then slipped away through the brush, trying not to make a single sound.

The tension is about to snap. If you can't wait for the next part and want to read the complete, uncensored ending right now, check the PINNED POST on my profile. Thanks for reading!

The rest of the bank holiday weekend dissolved into a nonstop haze of sweat, cum, and raw fucking.

By Sunday afternoon, the four of them had barely left the twins’ bedroom except to grab more lube, beer, and snacks. The air was thick with the smell of sex. Mark and Ryan lay sprawled on the big bed, naked and glistening, their thick cocks resting heavy against their thighs. Alex and Jordan, still buzzing with energy, crawled between their father and uncle like eager kittens.

“You two have been using our holes all weekend,” Jordan said, running his tongue up Ryan’s spent shaft. “Time to switch things up.”

Alex grinned, already slicking his fingers with lube. “Yeah. We want to fuck our dad and uncle today.”

Mark let out a low, amused groan, but his cock twitched and began to thicken again. “You boys are insatiable.”
Ryan smirked, spreading his legs without hesitation.

“Been a while since anything’s been up there. Go easy on your old uncle… at first.”

The twins didn’t need telling twice. They worked together with practised coordination. Jordan straddled Mark’s chest, feeding his hard cock into his dad’s mouth while Alex pushed Mark’s thick thighs apart and pressed his slicked fingers against his father’s tight hole. Mark moaned around Jordan’s shaft as Alex worked him open, first one finger, then two, then three, curling them against his prostate until Mark’s cock leaked steadily onto his own stomach.

At the same time, Ryan was on all fours beside them. Alex had his face buried between his uncle’s firm cheeks, tongue fucking the older man’s hole while Jordan reached over to stroke Ryan’s heavy balls.

“Fuck… you two really are dirty little sluts,” Ryan growled, pushing back against Alex’s mouth.

When both men were properly prepped and panting, the twins lined up. Alex pressed the head of his cock against Mark’s hole and sank in slowly, savouring the tight heat. Mark’s back arched, a deep guttural sound escaping around Jordan’s dick.

Jordan did the same with Ryan, sliding in balls-deep in one smooth thrust. “God, Uncle Ryan… your arse feels incredible.”

They started fucking their father and uncle in perfect sync, hips snapping forward, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. Alex and Jordan leaned over the older men, kissing each other deeply while they pounded away. Mark and Ryan groaned and cursed, pushing back to meet every thrust.

“Harder, son,” Mark rasped, pulling off Jordan’s cock for a second. “Fuck your dad properly.”

Ryan was even filthier. “Come on, boys. Wreck your uncle’s hole. Fill me up.”

The twins obliged, slamming in deep and fast. Alex reached around to stroke his dad’s throbbing cock in time with his thrusts, while Jordan did the same for Ryan. The older men came first — Mark shooting thick ropes across his own chest with a muffled shout, Ryan bellowing as his load splattered the sheets beneath him.

Alex and Jordan didn’t pull out. They kept fucking through the spasms until they both unloaded, pumping their hot cum deep into their father and uncle. When they finally withdrew, creamy seed leaked from both well-fucked holes. The twins immediately dropped down to lick and slurp it up, sharing messy, cum-soaked kisses with each other and then with Mark and Ryan.

That night they all showered together, bodies pressed tight under the hot spray, hands roaming, cocks half-hard again. As they dried off, Alex looked at Jordan with that familiar wicked glint.

“So… what do you reckon about inviting Cousin Liam next time he’s in town?”

Jordan laughed softly, reaching down to squeeze his brother’s cock. “One step at a time, bro. But fuck… the family reunions are about to get a lot more interesting.”
Mark pulled both boys against his chest, Ryan pressing in from behind. “You two are going to kill us all before the end of summer.”

Alex kissed his dad’s neck, then looked up with a sweet, filthy smile. “Worth it, though. Right, Dad?”

Mark’s only answer was a deep, resigned groan as four hands began stroking him hard again.

🔞Everyone is 18+.

Let me tell you about the man I’m going to break.

His name is Ben Carter. A construction foreman. Mid-forties. Built like a brick shithouse, as they say—wide shoulders, thick chest, arms corded with muscle that speaks of decades of real labor, not gym vanity. Hands like slabs of meat, knuckles scarred and permanently stained with grease and grime. He has this face… all hard lines and a permanent squint, like he’s always looking into a harsh sun or at something that disgusts him. Ice-blue eyes. Right now, they’re full of pure, unadulterated hatred. For me.

He thinks it’s hate. I know better. I know what hate looks like. This? This is fascination. This is panic. This is a rigid, terrified arousal he doesn’t have a single word for.

And me? I’m Cas. Cassian Valenti. Lead architect on the Ascension Tower project. I’m younger than him. Sleeker. I keep in shape because I like the discipline, not because my job demands it. My hands are for drafting and design, not driving nails. Today, I’m wearing jeans that fit me just right and a polo shirt that shows the definition of my chest and arms without trying too hard. I know what I look like to him. I’m the walking, talking embodiment of everything his narrow world tells him to despise: educated, confident, openly gay, and utterly unafraid of him.

I saw him the moment I stepped onto the site. He was like a bull in a pen, pacing, radiating a cloud of testosterone and simmering aggression. He was yelling at a guy about a misaligned beam, his voice a rough growl that cut through the noise. I watched the way his throat worked, the sweat dampening the grey cotton of his shirt where it stretched across his broad back. A raw, physical creature. Predictable. And absolutely perfect for what I have in mind.

I made my way over, feeling the eyes of his crew on me. The stares were a mix of curiosity, lust, and derision. I ignored them. My focus was on the foreman. My project.

“You lost?” he barked as I got close, turning that glacial glare on me.

Up close, he was even more potent. He smelled of honest sweat, cheap coffee, and the faint, sharp tang of metal. A working man’s smell. It was strangely compelling. I introduced myself, offered my hand. He left it hanging. A childish power play. Adorable.

I told him about his error, my voice calm, factual. I watched the blood drain from his ruddy face, then flood back in a hot, angry tide. His pride was wounded, publicly. I could see the calculations behind his eyes—the fear of being wrong, the terror of looking weak in front of his pack. He puffed up, stepping into my space, trying to use his size to intimidate. His heat rolled over me.

“We build with our hands here, not with fucking emails,” he snarled.

I didn’t flinch. I held his gaze, letting him see the absolute lack of fear in mine. I explained the consequences, my tone dropping into something quieter, more intimate. This was between us now. “Or I file a non-compliance report… Your choice.”

That’s when the real mask slipped. Rage contorted his features. He leaned in, his lips almost brushing my ear. I could feel the angry puff of his breath. He was going to say it. The word. The big, ugly, six-letter slur he thought defined the chasm between us.

He didn’t get it out.

“You listen to me, you prissy little f—“

I cut him off not with words, but with my eyes. I looked right at him, and I let him see it. Not anger. Not hurt. Amusement. And a cool, patient promise. I saw the confusion hit him first, then a dawning, horrifying understanding. He was not in control here. He never had been.

“Careful,” I murmured, my voice so low only he could hear it, a velvet threat. “Words have consequences, foreman. So do foundations.”

I let my gaze travel over him then—a slow, deliberate inventory. From his scuffed boots, up the thick denim of his jeans clinging to powerful thighs, over the prominent bulge I didn’t bother to ignore, up the flat plane of his stomach under the sweaty shirt, to the pulse hammering wildly in the corded column of his neck. I took my time. I wanted him to feel every second of it. I was stripping him, right there in front of his men, and he was utterly helpless to stop me.

I saw his breathing hitch. His eyes, wide and stunned, dropped to my mouth for a split second. A violent tremor went through the big muscles of his shoulders. It wasn’t all rage. I know the difference.

I turned and walked away. I made sure my walk was fluid, confident. I knew he was watching. I knew every man on that site was watching the denim shift over my ass. And I let him look. Let him burn.

I didn’t go far. I found a shadowed alcove near the stairwell, out of sight but with a perfect view of his site office—a grimy shipping container. I leaned against the cool concrete and waited.

He stormed inside like a hurricane and slammed the door. Through the grimy window, I watched the show. He braced himself on his desk, head down, his whole massive frame trembling with the adrenaline crash. He was gorgeous in his fury. All that untamed, brutish energy with nowhere to go.

Then he did what I knew he would. He pulled a bottle of whiskey from a drawer. He drank from it like it was water, his throat working as he swallowed. He sank into his chair, ran a hand over his face—a gesture of pure, bewildered torment.

This is the best part. This is where the real work begins.

He tried to shake it off. He muttered to himself, a harsh, angry sound. Then, he shifted in his seat, and I saw it—the subtle, telling adjustment. The readjustment of denim over a growing hardness. He tried to hide it, glancing around as if someone could see him in his private cage. A flush crept up his neck.

He was getting hard. Thinking of me.

The knowledge was a hot, sweet pulse in my own gut. Yes.

He took another desperate pull from the bottle, but it was no use. His free hand… it didn’t go back to the desk. It hovered. Then, with a look of utter self-loathing, it dropped into his lap. He palmed himself through his jeans, a rough, frantic motion. His head fell back against the chair, his eyes squeezed shut. His lips parted.

I was rock hard watching him. I slipped my own hand into my jeans, finding my cock already thick and eager, stroking myself slowly, in time with the rough, desperate rhythm of his touch through the fabric. I imagined it was my hand on him. My hand teaching him what that feeling really was.

In his container, he was losing his battle. His hips gave a small, involuntary jerk. His breathing became ragged, visible even from my distance. He was touching himself, fully clothed, in his office, in the middle of the day. Because of a few words from me. Because I looked at him the right way.

He came and I saw the powerful clench of his body, the sharp arch of his back, the way his hand stilled and pressed hard. A short, sharp cry was torn from him—muffled by the container walls, but I saw the shape of it on his mouth. A silent, shuddering "Fuck."

He went limp, a puppet with cut strings, staring at the ceiling in shattered horror.

I finished myself with a few swift, tight strokes, my eyes locked on his defeated form. My release was quiet, intense, a hot spill in my hand. A preview.

I cleaned up, straightened my clothes, and allowed myself a small, cold smile.

That was just the spark. A little psychological arson. He thinks he’s humiliated. He thinks he’s angry. He has no idea.

He’s mine now. Every confused, shameful tremor. Every unwanted, rock-hard erection. Every desperate, secret touch. He belongs to the very thing he claims to hate. And I’m going to make him beg for it.

I’m going to make him say please.

And it’s going to be the hottest fucking thing he’s ever experienced.

Thanks for reading & if this made you hard, you know where to find the rest. Don't be left hanging. 💦

Everyone in the story is over 18 first of all. This is my first time writing erotica, so hopefully it all comes out good. This is based on a true story, or rather my first time with a guy.

---
This happened a long time ago, when I was probably 20 or so. Since high school I had been watching porn, and while I considered myself straight, and even had sex with girls, I still found myself focused on guys cocks in porn, and it made me curious the more and more I watched. I did have trouble with girls at first, and was partially craving attention from anyone who would be interested.

I had planned a trip to Las Vegas a little after my 20th birthday. I was young, and in good shape. I weighed around 145 lbs at the time. In preparation for the trip, I posted an ad on craigslist in the m4m section about wanting to try being with a guy (I looked for the email before this post, but couldn't find it) a few days in advanced. I got a few replies, but this on guy (we'll call him Chris) stuck out to me. I'm not sure his exact age, but he was older than me, and in good shape as well, and I seem to recall him being middle eastern or something like that. Now one of my requests in my post was that I wanted to bottom, so I was looking for a top, and preferably a top with a bigger cock than mine. My cock isn't huge, but it's decent size around 5 inches, but this guy said he was around 8 inches, and it got me excited. We exchanged phone numbers, and made some tentative plans for the weekend.

I met him outside my hotel (Luxor) around 1 PM or so, and he picked me up in his car. I'm not going to lie, but I was a little nervous getting into the car because it finally going to happen. We made small talk as he drove around, and told me we were going to go to a gay bath house named Apollo's in Vegas. We stopped at a 7/11 and he ran in to get some condoms, and lube, and some liquor to help calm me, and loosen me up because I was kind of nervous and he could tell.

Upon arriving at Apollo's, he walked me in and paid for a room at the front desk, and then led me through the dark hallways to the little room. Once inside the room, under the dim light he reached for my pants and could feel my hard cock. He looked at me, and smiled knowing what was going to happen. Then he grabbed my hand, and placed it on top of his jeans so I could feel his hard cock as well. I smiled back, and started to unbutton his pants, and pulled out his cock in my hands. It looked so big, and thick, and had a slight curve to it. After he unbuttoned my pants and got them off he pulled in close and rubbed our cocks together to show me how much smaller I was to him.

After rubbing our cocks together for a little bit, he asked if I was ready, and I nodded. Chris picked me up effortlessly, and put me on this black table, similar to the ones they use in doctors rooms, and spread my legs open. He told me he was going to go slow since it was my first time, and wanted to make sure it was fun for the both of us. With one hand he uncapped the bottle of lube, and squirted some on my asshole, and I felt the coldness of the lube preparing me for what would come next. He dropped the lube on the table, and ripped open a condom with his mouth, guiding my hands to his cock to roll it on, and pressed his rock hard cock against me. I felt the resistance of my hole on his cock, and then it sliding open, and the head of his cock entering me. Chris smiled at me, and I bit my lip while realizing that there was no going back from this point on. My cock was still rock hard as he slowly rocked back and forth, entering and exiting, each time going a little bit farther than the last. All the while he would play with the head of my cock that was now getting wet with pre-cum. This went on for a little while, and I'm not sure how long it was but he went slow the entire time, loosing up my tight virgin hole with his massive cock.

At one point he says we should take a break, as to not overwhelm my newly penetrated ass, and pulls out, and rips the condom off. Chris asks if I want to see the rest of Apollo's, and me not knowing what a gay bath house was at the time says ok. We both put on bath robes, and walk outside the room, and he shows me. They have weights to work out with, and a hot tub, and some showers which he leads me into. In the showers is another guy, older, maybe around his 50's with his cock out jerking off. He moves towards us, and Chris steps forward and blocks him, and says that I'm his. I'm hard again, with my cock sticking out of the bath robe in these showers. Chris looks at me, and walks me to a corner area by my cock. There he backs me into a corner, and jerks both of our cocks together. At that point I realized that I was about to cum, and with Chris looking at me he knew that as well. I bit my lip, and moaned out softly ".. I'm going to cum...". My cock twitches, and he smiles at me knowing what's happening. I blow my load on his hard cock. Then Chris puts his hands on my shoulders, and slowly pushes me down to me knees. His cock covered in my cum staring right at me at eye level. I open my mouth and slowly start to suck on it. Chris lets me know what to do, to use more tongue, to go deeper, to play with his balls more. All the while, I'm tasting my own cum on his cock getting a taste of what's to come. Now, I'm inexperienced with sucking cock, and Chris knows this is my first, so I have trouble getting a lot of his cock down my throat, so he holds the back of my head, and slowly pushes it deeper and deeper. He's moaning, and asking me if this is really my first time, and such. Then out of nowhere he grabs hold of the back of my head and thrusts his 8 inches into the back of my throat. He announced that he's going to cum himself. At this point I'm all the way at the base of his cock, and I have this thick, long cock down my throat, and then it starts to pulsated, and I feel cum explode out of him down the back of my throat. He pulls back, and his cock exits my mouth. Chris then looks down at me, and smiles. I look up at him, and smile as well as some cum runs out of my mouth and down my chin. We get up, and go walk back the room, all the while that older guy stood 10 or so feet away from us, and was now joined by 2 other guys jerking off to what they just saw.

Back in the room, he says that he had a great time, and hopes that I had fun. I tell him that I wish he came from my ass, and he says not to worry about it, as long as I enjoyed it. He then says that he could tell that I did, and I smiled a little bit and nodded.

Once dressed, we headed back out to his car. He drove me back to my hotel, and when I went to get out he grabbed my hand, and put it on his jeans. I could feel his hard cock through it. I smiled. Chris said to me "practice makes perfect, don't wait to long to suck another dick", and I smiled and said "I can't wait for the next one". I got out of the car, and he drove away. I never saw him again, but think about that cock from time to time, as the first one. The one that made me question everything. I got it then. I understood why cock was fun as I walked back to my hotel room, where I collapsed on the bed in my cum stained boxers.

I am a 26-year-old Asian guy. Last month the YumYum presale was a total bloodbath and I barely got a before 10:30 pm early entry ticket. I cleaned out and fasted all day so I could take it raw and messy. Popped two caps of G right after security. By 11 the high hit me hard. That warm heavy feeling spread through my body, my skin got really sensitive, my hole started throbbing, and my head went fuzzy and slutty. I was on the main floor in my tiniest black shorts and harness, shaking my ass like a desperate whore, when a tall muscular guy in a white tank top came up behind me. He grabbed my hips and ground his thick hard cock right between my cheeks. I pushed back and rubbed my ass all over it. Another built guy stepped in front, shoved his tongue down my throat, and yanked my shorts down to stroke my dripping cock. I was leaking pre-cum all over his hand.
They took me down to one of the basement rooms. The tall guy bent me over, pulled my shorts off, and rammed his raw cock balls deep into my ass. The G made every thrust feel so fucking good. I moaned loud as he stretched me open and pounded me hard. His friend grabbed my head and fucked my throat, making me gag and drool everywhere. They swapped a few times. Then this younger lean Latino guy joined in. He was smooth, tight bodied, mid-20s, with a long thick cock. He railed my hole deep and fast, sweating and breathing heavy in my ear until he buried himself and pumped thick hot cum straight into my guts. The next guy slid in right after and churned it into a sloppy creamy mess that leaked down my thighs. I went back upstairs with cum already dripping out of me.
Still high as fuck, I went back to the dance floor. The G kept me horny and greedy. I danced with my ass out for a while until I met two horny twinks. We made out heavy and groped each other before they took me back down to the basement.
On a mattress they double teamed me. One pounded my wrecked cum filled hole hard and fast while the other shoved his cock down my throat. The G made it all feel endless. I came hands free twice, shaking and moaning as my hole clenched and pushed out mixed cum.
I stayed down there for hours getting used, taking more raw cocks and loads in my ass and throat while completely spun. By the time I left at 6 a.m. I was destroyed. Face and chest covered in dried cum, hole puffy and sore, still leaking down my legs. Walking out into the early Toronto morning with shaky legs felt so fucking filthy. Getting spun on G that early after prepping my hole and letting those guys breed me over and over was reckless as hell, but fuck, I loved every dirty second of it.

🔞Everyone is 18+.

Five days after The Chair Incident, the apartment had become a temple of loaded silence and humid looks. Words were clumsy relics. Communication lived in the dilation of his pupils as I crossed the room shirtless, in the hitch of his breath when I bent to pick something up, in the way he now lingered in doorways—uncertain, magnetized, a beautiful animal sensing the trap but unable to resist the bait inside.

Phase 2: Tactical Intimacy. The objective was no longer mere suggestion, but systematic dismantling through sanctioned touch. I waited for providence to deliver the perfect vector.

Providence arrived on a Tuesday evening, dressed in agony.

The front door crashed open. Mateo staggered in, a symphony of pain. He was covered in dried turf and summer sweat, his left hand clamped to the small of his back, his face pale under a smear of mud. Soccer practice had been ruthless.

“Christ,” he hissed through gritted teeth, trying and failing to kick his cleats off. He stumbled against the wall, hissing again, eyes screwed shut.

A bolt of genuine concern shot through me—followed immediately by a surge of predatory certainty. This was it. The universe was handing me the scalpel.

“Mateo.” I was beside him in three strides, my hand landing on his clammy shoulder. He flinched, then leaned into the support. “What happened?”

“Landed on my fucking kidney after a tackle,” he ground out, his voice tight. “Or my spine. Feels like both.”

“Couch. Now.” My command left no room for debate. I guided him, bearing some of his weight, my arm around his back. His heat seared through the damp jersey. He smelled overpoweringly male—grass, earth, salt, effort. It went straight to my head like a narcotic.

He collapsed face-first onto the deep leather sectional with a groan that vibrated through the furniture and up my bones. He lay there, defeated, one hand still pressed to the injury. “Just shoot me,” he mumbled into the cushion.

“Not a chance.” My voice was low, purposeful. I went to the kitchen, bypassing the ordinary massage oils. From a high cabinet, I retrieved a small, expensive bottle of arnica-infused balm I’d bought weeks ago for precisely zero legitimate reasons. It was cool, herbal, and would require warming through extensive contact. I also grabbed a thick, fluffy towel.

Returning, I stood over him. He was a heartbreaking vision of potent masculinity laid low. His blue kit shorts were ripped at the hem, clinging to the powerful curves of his thighs and backside. The jersey was glued to him with sweat, outlining every ridge of his shoulder blades, the taper of his waist.

“Jersey. Off.” The instruction was soft but absolute.

He turned his head, pain and a flicker of something else—submission, reliance—in his hazel eyes. With a weak, awkward struggle, he peeled the sodden garment up and over his head, tossing it to the floor. A soft, pained sigh escaped him as the cooler air hit his skin.

The unveiling was a religious experience.

His back was a map of exquisite strain. The lumbar muscles were visibly knotted, a hard, angry ridge flanking his spine. Sweat painted a sheen across the golden expanse, catching the low evening light filtering through the blinds. The waistband of his shorts was dark with perspiration, dipped perilously low, revealing the profound dimples at the base of his spine—the anchors of his anatomy. Below them, the shorts tightened over the sublime, full rise of his ass, the central seam delving deep into the cleavage.

My mouth went desert-dry. My cock swelled to an immediate, aching hardness, straining the fly of my jeans. Blood roared in my ears.

Focus. This was medicinal. Necessary.

I unfolded the towel and draped it over the back of the couch, within reach. Kneeling on the floor beside him, I unscrewed the balm. The scent of menthol and chamomile bloomed, soon to be subsumed.

“This is cold,” I warned, my voice a gravelly murmur just for him. “It’ll burn a little at first, then it’ll unlock everything.”

He merely nodded, his face hidden.

I scooped out a generous dollop, the consistency of thick cream. Rubbing my palms together vigorously, I heated it, my eyes never leaving the landscape before me. Then, I placed my hands on him.

The effect was volcanic.

At the first touch of my slick, warmed palms flat between his shoulder blades, his entire body convulsed. A sharp, ragged intake of breath. Not just from the temperature. From the contact itself—deliberate, encompassing, intimate.

“Sssteady,” I soothed, beginning to move. Slow, firm circles. Spreading the balm, claiming the territory. His skin was furnace-hot, smooth silk over granite. Under my hands, the immense power of him was rendered passive, malleable.

I worked with dedicated, deceptive patience. My thumbs dug into the ropes of tension at the base of his neck. He groaned, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to come from the center of the earth. “Oh… fuck…”

“Give it to me,” I whispered, increasing pressure. “All that tightness. Push it into my hands.”

He obeyed instinctively, exhaling a long, shuddering stream of air as a major knot began to dissolve under my insistence. His body softened incrementally, sinking deeper into the leather.

Methodically, I descended. My hands swept over the wings of his shoulders, kneading the dense deltoids. More balm, more heat, more contact. Each stroke was a baptism. I coated his entire upper back, making him gleam under my ministrations, a pagan idol anointed for worship. His breathing deepened, shifting from pained gusts to low, rhythmic sighs.

“Your hands…” he slurred, voice thick and drugged. “…magic.”

“Just physics,” I lied, my own breath growing uneven. The room’s atmosphere had transformed. The air was thick with the herbal scent, the pungency of his sweat, and the ozone-crackle of unleashed desire. My jeans were uncomfortably tight, a persistent, distracting throb. I ignored it, pouring my entire consciousness into my touch.

I reached his lower back, the epicenter of his injury. Here, my touch changed. Became more invasive, more possessive. Using my thumbs, I pressed directly into the clenched muscles beside his spine, working in deep, penetrating spirals.

“Nhhaaa! G-God, right there!” he cried out, back arching dramatically. The motion pulled his shorts even lower, exposing the topmost crescent of his ass cheeks. “Yes… harder…”

A feral sound almost broke from my own throat. I complied, driving my thumbs in mercilessly, loving the way he writhed and begged for the punishment. His hips began a subtle, instinctive rocking against the couch. The leather squeaked in a soft, obscene rhythm.

Encouraged, I widened my stance. My hands slid down, past his waist, my thumbs hooking under the elastic band of his shorts. The skin there was ethereally soft, vulnerable. I pressed my palms flat against the flexing muscles of his lower back, my fingertips now resting decisively on the upper slopes of his ass, outside the fabric but claiming the territory.

He froze for a split second. Then, with a broken moan, he pushed back, arching his spine, pressing his rear deliberately into the cradle of my hovering hands.

Explicit invitation.

Electric fire coursed through my veins. Permission granted.

Abandoning all pretense of therapy, I slid both hands fully beneath his waistband, palms flattening against the hot, smooth skin of his lower back and the magnificent, muscular hemispheres of his bare ass.

He gasped, a sharp, startled sound that melted into a groan of profound relief. “Yesss…”

My fingers sank into the firm, resilient flesh. He was perfect. Solid, yet yielding. Utterly hairless. I squeezed, kneaded, worshipped. My thumbs found the deep divide and followed it downward, applying pressure along the inner seams of his cheeks.

“You’re so tight here, too,” I breathed, leaning close. My lips brushed the shell of his ear. I felt him tremble violently. “Everything’s connected. Let me loosen it all.”

I didn’t wait for an answer. One hand remained splayed possessively on one globe, massaging in slow, greedy circles. The other journeyed deeper, questing downward through the shadowed valley. The air was cooler here, intimate. My fingers trailed through light sweat, tracing the path to his very core.

When my middle finger found his hole—hot, furled, tightly clenched—he jolted as if electrocuted.

“OH! JESUS, LEO!”

His shout was pure, uncensored shock and arousal.

I didn’t retreat. I circled the pucker slowly, firmly, with my slick, balm-coated fingertip. The resistant muscle quivered under my touch. “Shhh,” I murmured against his sweat-damp hair. “This is where you hold all your stress. This little knot. Let me undo it.”

“I… I can’t…” he whimpered, but his hips were pushing back, fucking himself against my stationary finger, seeking more pressure.

“You can. You are.” I increased the circular motion, lubricating the tight ring with the slick balm. “Feel it giving way. Opening up.”

His response was a torrent of fractured, desperate sounds. Whimpers, gasps, my name repeated like a mantra. “Leo… ohgod, Leo… please…”

“Please what?” I growled, my own control fraying. My cock was a rigid, leaking ache. I was coating him inside and out, marking him with my scent and my intention. “Tell me.”

“I don’t… know… just… don’t stop…”

His admission of helplessness was the most potent aphrodisiac I’d ever known.

I redoubled my efforts. My finger worked his entrance with focused dedication, simulating penetration. My other hand gripped his hip, holding him in place, feeling the powerful muscles dance under my palm as he rocked. The sounds were obscenely wet—the slip of the balm, the squelch of his sweat, the slick tease of my finger against his most private place.

He was coming apart. His breath came in ragged, sobbing gulps. Pleasure and overwhelm twisted his features where I could glimpse them. He was fully hard; I could see the thick outline of his erection trapped beneath him, straining against his shorts and the couch, leaving a dark, damp smear on the leather.

“Close…” he choked out, his voice shredded. “So close… from this… from your finger… oh fuck, I’m gonna—”

This was the pinnacle. He was about to ejaculate, untouched, from a pseudo-massage and a finger on his asshole. The power was absolute, divine.

And I rejected it.

True communion required mutual sacrifice.

Just as his body locked, teetering on the precipice, I withdrew both hands completely.

The cry that tore from him was one of purest anguish. A wounded, bewildered sob. His hips pumped frantically into empty air, chasing the stolen climax. “NO! Please, God, no… I was right there…”

I stood up on shaky legs, looking down at my handiwork. He was a portrait of exquisite ruin: back glistening with balm and sweat, shorts rucked up, body coiled in frustration, face contorted in near-agony. The smell of sex and herbs was overwhelming.

“Spasm prevention,” I stated hoarsely, wiping my hands on the towel, my own need a screaming void inside me. “You were about to cramp. Would have set you back weeks.”

It was a monstrous lie. He knew it. I saw the knowledge flare in his tear-bright, devastated eyes.

He rolled onto his side, curling fetally, shielding his tormented erection. He stared up at me, betrayal and awe and addictive hunger warring in his gaze. “Why?” The single syllable was cracked, vulnerable.

I leaned down, placing my cleaned hands on the couch on either side of his head, caging him in. Our faces were inches apart. I let him see the identical, ravenous hunger in my own eyes, the brutal strain in my jaw, the truth I couldn’t yet speak aloud.

“Because the first time you come for me,” I promised, my voice a dark, intimate vow that slithered into his soul, “it won’t be alone on a couch. It’ll be in my mouth, or on my skin, or deep inside me while you scream my name into my neck. And you will beg me for it.”

His lips parted on a silent, shattered gasp. A fresh tremor racked him.

I straightened, turned, and walked to my bedroom without a backward glance.

Behind me, the silence lasted five thunderous heartbeats.

Then came the sounds. The frenzied yank of fabric. A low, guttural, starving growl. And the swift, wet, violent slap-slap-slap of a fist flying over swollen, deprived flesh. Broken, sobbing curses punctuated the rhythm.

“Ah! Fuck! Need it… need it… Leo! Oh, CHRIST!”

The cadence accelerated, frantic, brutal. A sharp cry. A choked-off roar. Then the unmistakable, wet, pulsing splatter of release hitting leather, followed by a long, shuddering, exhausted groan.

He had come. Violently, messily, alone.

But he had come thinking of my hands, my words, my withheld permission.

Inside my room, I locked the door. I didn’t bother with stealth. I freed my aching cock, already slick at the tip, and brought myself off in ten savage strokes, my own climax ripped from me by the symphony of his solitude. I came silently, viciously, painting the wall with streaks of white, my mind a reel of images: his hole clenching around nothing, his desperate face, the promise of a future where my name was the only prayer on his lips.

Phase 2 was complete. We had communed without kissing. I had touched his soul through his spine and his ass. He was no longer simply tempted. He was inducted.

The battlefield was leveled. The next phase would be a frontal assault on his senses. Taste. Sound. Surrender.

The cost of entry had just been paid in full.

If this made your dick throb, you know where to find more of it😉

Everyone is 18+

-------

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

----

Preview

When we finally broke apart, a thick strand of mixed cum and saliva connected our lips. Levi was panting hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes dark with lust.

I wiped my thumb across his lower lip, spreading the mess, and growled low against his mouth.

“Swallow what’s left, Levi.”

Levi’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes glassy and humiliated.

I smirked, my lips brushing against his ear as I growled, “Now go act innocent for your dad… try not to let him smell my cum still coating your tongue. Tell him everything’s fine while my load is still warm inside your guts.”

I paused, letting the words sink in, then continued with a dark chuckle.

“Coach paired me with his son… Worst fucking decision he ever made. I’m gonna make sure he regrets it every single night from now on.”

Levi let out a shaky, broken breath. His face flushed deep red.. a mix of panic and undeniable arousal. He couldn’t even look me in the eyes.

“Tomorrow night,” I said, voice husky and commanding. “Same time. Don’t be late… or I’ll come find you.”

---

Now

Levi’s legs shook as he yanked his compression shorts back over his hips. Thick globs of my cum immediately started leaking out of his stretched asshole, running down the inside of his left thigh in slow, creamy trails. A shiny streak of it still coated his bottom lip from the load I had spat into his mouth and made him swallow. His cheeks burned dark red. His eyes looked dazed and fucked-out, pupils blown wide with that desperate mix of shame and pure cock-hunger.

“Go,” I whispered, bringing my hand down hard on his ass cheek. The sharp smack echoed. “Act normal for Daddy.”

He nodded, still breathing fast, and jogged out toward the brighter part of the tunnel. I stayed back in the shadows, my cock still heavy and half-hard, watching everything.

Coach Hayes’s voice carried clearly. “Levi? There you are. Why are you still here so late, son? Everything okay?”

Levi’s reply came out almost steady. “Yeah, Dad. Just extra reps with Zane. He’s intense.”

I grinned in the dark. Intense. That was one right word to describe pumping load after load into his son’s guts.

Coach chuckled. “Good. That boy needs pushing. Don’t let him slack off. Lock up when you’re done.”

The footsteps moved away for a few minutes. Then Coach’s voice came again. “Levi? I forgot my things. Wait here okay?”

Levi nodded, once he saw his dad’s shadow faded.

Levi sprinted back like a starving animal. 

Fuck. He’s coming back.

He didn’t say a single word. He just dropped to his knees on the concrete, hooked his fingers into my waistband, pulled my shorts down, and shoved my cock straight down his throat until his nose pressed against my sweaty pubes.

“FUCK…aaarrrrggggghhhhh… shit”

He pulled away slowly, looking up at my face the whole time, which made my cock throb even harder. Before he pulled off completely, he gave a sharp suck to my mushroom head that made my legs tremble. He gave it two more hard suctions that nearly made me fall down. I gripped the cinderblock wall tight to stay upright.

“Fuck…uggghhh…morreeeeeee…. ughhhmmmggghhh”

This little fucker.

He gave the head one last kiss and ran so fast before I could yank him back down.

“You little fucker…” I muttered, staring at his hard cock that was still dangling and leaking as he disappeared. I will close this debt tomorrow night.

Next Night – 10:30 PM

I showed up twenty minutes late on purpose. When I walked onto the track, Levi was already waiting under the lights... shirtless, chest rising and falling fast, those tight black compression shorts stretched obscenely by his hard cock. A big wet precum spot soaked the front of the fabric.

“Strip,” I said.

He shoved his shorts down immediately. His dick sprang up, thick and veiny, head shiny with precum. His balls hung heavy. His asshole still looked slightly puffy from the night before.

We skipped all the training. I grabbed him by the throat, fingers tight around his neck, and marched him deep into the tunnel, past the first bend where the emergency lights barely reached. The air smelled like old concrete, rubber, and dried sweat. This section was darker, riskier. Coach could walk in at any moment like yesterday and we would have almost no warning today.

I slammed his chest against the cold cinderblock wall.

“Hands behind your back. Now.”

He put both wrists together. I grabbed his discarded compression shorts and tied them tight around his wrists, knotting the fabric until he couldn’t pull them apart. Then I kicked his feet wider.

“You’ve been sitting in class all day with my cum still inside your asshole, haven’t you?” I growled, rubbing the fat head of my cock up and down between his sweaty cheeks.

“Yes…mmggghhh…. f-f-fuck yessss..aahhhh…” Levi panted, pushing his ass back.

I spat directly onto my cock, rubbed the spit over the head, lined up, and drove forward in one hard thrust. My thick shaft forced his asshole open and sank balls-deep in a single stroke.

“Fuuuuck... Zane..Aaaaahhh…. shit... too thick... ” Levi gasped, voice cracking as his hole clenched hard around me.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP and take it, coach’s boy.”

I started pounding him immediately... long, heavy strokes that made his body jolt forward against the wall every time my hips slapped his ass. Sweat poured down both our backs. The wet smack of skin on skin echoed loud in the tunnel. His tied hands twisted uselessly behind him as I railed his hole.

I reached around, grabbed his leaking cock, and stroked it fast, squeezing the head on every upstroke so more precum dripped through my fingers.

After a few minutes I pulled my cock completely out. His asshole stayed open for a second, a small gap showing the pink inside. I spun him around, shoved him down onto his knees, and slapped my slick, ass-flavored cock across his face several times. Wet smacks landed on his cheek, his lips, his forehead.

“Clean it... Every inch.”

Levi opened wide and took me back into his mouth. He sucked hard, tongue swirling around the shaft, tasting his own ass on my cock. I grabbed his short hair and fucked his throat deep, pushing until his nose pressed against my pelvis and his throat convulsed. Thick spit ran down his chin and dripped onto his chest. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes but he kept sucking, gagging, slurping, desperate for it.

I face-fucked him until his throat made constant wet glucking noises, then dragged him up by the hair and bent him over a stack of old gym mats. I mounted him again, sliding back into his sloppy hole in one thrust. This time I fucked slower but deeper, grinding my cock against his prostate on every stroke. I kept him right on the edge... jerking his cock fast, then stopping completely, squeezing the head hard when his balls started to draw up.

“Beg for my load,” I ordered.

“Please Zane… breed me again… FUCKKK…. aaaaahhhh….… pump my guts full… I - i - fuck… aahhh…. want your cum leaking out of me all day tomorrow during practice…”

I laughed quietly. “Not yet.”

I pulled out, dropped to my knees, spread his ass cheeks wide, and buried my face between them. I licked long stripes from his balls all the way up to his hole, tasting the mix of sweat, precum, and my own cum from the night before. Then I stiffened my tongue and pushed it inside him, fucking his hole with my tongue while I stroked his cock. Loud, wet slurping sounds came from my mouth as I ate him out. I sucked on his rim, spat on it, licked it again, then stood up and shoved my cock straight from his ass back into his mouth. He gagged hard but kept sucking, eyes rolling back.

This is too good. Coach’s son sucking his own ass off my dick like a whore.

That was when we heard the distant metallic sound of the stadium gate opening.

Coach was starting his nightly lock-up round again.

Levi froze completely, body tense. I didn’t stop. I shoved him face-down onto the mats, climbed on top of him in a full mount, and kept my cock buried deep inside his ass. I clamped one hand tight over his mouth and whispered right against his ear.

“Quiet. Or Daddy finds out his perfect son is a cock-addicted cumdump who begs to get bred.”

I continued fucking him... slow, deep, controlled strokes. Every time I pushed in, his hole clenched hard around my shaft. His own cock rubbed against the mat, leaking constantly. The danger made him shake.

Fuck, this is risky. But his hole is gripping me even tighter now.

Coach’s flashlight beam appeared, sweeping across the far end of the tunnel. Then the footsteps got louder. 

Closer. Much closer than before.

“Levi?” Coach called out. “You in here, son? I thought I heard something.”

Shit. He’s coming this way.

I didn’t pull out. Instead I pushed my cock even deeper and started slow, grinding thrusts while Levi’s body tensed under me. I kept my hand pressed hard over his mouth.

“Answer him,” I whispered, giving a sharp thrust that made my balls slap against his.

Levi’s voice came out shaky but loud enough. “Y-yeah Dad… I’m here. Just… finishing some stretches.”

I grinned and gave him another deep thrust, grinding my cock against his prostate while his dad’s footsteps came even closer.

Look at this. I’m balls-deep in Coach’s son while he talks to his father.

Coach’s voice got nearer. “You sure everything’s alright? You sound out of breath.”

Levi’s hole squeezed violently around my cock. I reached under him and stroked his leaking dick fast, thumb rubbing over the sensitive head.

“Everything’s f-fine, Dad,” Levi forced out, his voice cracking on the last word as I gave him a hard thrust at the same time.

I felt his cock throb wildly in my fist. He’s gonna cum. Right now.

I kept stroking him and fucking him with short, deep strokes while Coach’s flashlight beam swept closer, only a few meters away from our position.

“Levi? Where are you exactly?” Coach called again.

At that exact moment Levi’s body seized. His asshole clamped down like a vice around my cock as thick ropes of cum shot out of him, splattering the mat and my fingers. He moaned into my palm, the sound barely muffled. I kept thrusting through his orgasm, burying myself deep and unloading at the same time. Heavy pulses of my cum flooded his guts while his dad was literally calling his name.

This is insane. I’m pumping my load into him while Coach is right there.

The flashlight beam swept past the entrance to our hidden section but didn’t come in. The footsteps paused for a few long seconds, then slowly started moving away again.

“Alright, lock up when you leave,” Coach finally said, voice fading.

The second the footsteps disappeared down the tunnel, I pulled my hand off Levi’s mouth and kept pounding him hard through the aftershocks. Thick cum leaked out around my cock with every thrust.

I untied his wrists, pulled out slowly, and flipped him onto his back.

“Legs up. Hold them.”

Levi grabbed behind his knees and pulled his legs back, exposing his wrecked asshole. It gaped open, red and puffy, with my thick white cum slowly oozing out and running down his crack. I took out his phone and recorded a clear video... close-ups of his cum-drooling hole, his flushed face, his spent cock.

“Send this to me later,” I told him. “Every single morning from now on, before you even get out of bed, you’re going to send me a new picture of this exact asshole. Understood?”

Levi nodded, voice hoarse. “Yes, sir…”

I leaned down, spat directly into his open mouth, then kissed him hard, shoving my tongue deep while our spit and the taste of his ass mixed together.

When I finally pulled back I smirked.

“Tell your dad I’m making great progress with you.”

- - -

Need Part 6?

When I Stopped Waiting

Note: This is a true story. Some names and details have been altered to protect the privacy of those involved, but the feelings—and the heat—are 100% real.

I

I’m not entirely sure how to start this confession. I suppose the best way is to lay it out straight: this is a true story. Obviously, I’ve changed the names and blurred the identifying details, because by putting this out there, I’m risking an eight-year relationship with my partner—and a hell of a lot more. But I think it’s a story worth telling, if only to prove that sometimes, your darkest fantasies actually do come true. For better or worse. And always when you least expect it.

My name is Luis. I’m thirty-six years old, and I’ve been hopelessly in love with Sergio, my best friend, for almost fourteen years. We met at Pappy Dog, a sweaty, pulsing gay club, back in August of ’94. He was a friend of a friend, but Sergio was strictly straight. He only ended up at Pappy’s because his gay friends had made the sacrifice of dragging him to Tretas first—an old-school straight club—hoping he’d finally hook up with a girl. The kid had just turned nineteen and hadn't even popped his cherry yet. But he’d completely chickened out, anchoring himself to the bar, nervously sipping his rum and coke, too paralyzed to make a move on a single woman there.

And once he stepped into Pappy’s, well... his chances of getting laid were pretty much shot.

To put the final nail in the coffin of his night, his buddies vanished into the darkroom, leaving Sergio completely stranded in the quietest corner of the bar. He just stood there, watching a sea of jacked guys rolling on ecstasy grinding against each other, occasionally shooting a hopeful glance at some lesbian walking past on her way to the dance floor.

His night was a total trainwreck until I bumped into our mutual friend in the bathrooms. He was thrilled to see me, dragged me upstairs, and planted me right next to Sergio. He introduced us, begged me to babysit him, and immediately bolted off to suck some cock.

I didn’t mind playing babysitter one bit. The kid was charming, and he was massive—a broad-shouldered guy from the north who easily passed for twenty-five despite being nineteen. And handsome as fuck. Or *guapo de cojones*—handsome as balls—as we say here. Not that I actually got to see his. I fucking wish.

The point is, we hit it off. We started talking, knocking back drinks, and I found out he lived just a couple of blocks from my apartment. At some point in the night, he finally asked me where the hell his friends had disappeared to.

"The darkroom," I replied.

He looked at me, completely clueless.

"What’s that? The bathroom? Is it really that filthy?"

You have to remember, back then, barely anyone had the internet—if it even existed for us yet—and there weren't any explicit shows on TV. Straight guys were completely oblivious to how things actually worked in the gay scene compared to how they are today.

So I explained the concept of a darkroom to him, and his eyes went as wide as dinner plates.

"Wait, so guys just go down there and start fucking?"

"Or sucking cock."

"And there’s no light at all?"

"Just the spark of a lighter every now and then."

"Holy shit. They definitely don’t have that in *normal* clubs."

I let the *normal* comment slide. I didn't bother lecturing him about how Pappy’s was perfectly normal despite being packed wall-to-wall with fags. I had already decided right then and there that he was going to be one of my best friends. I figured I’d be seeing a lot of him, so I’d have plenty of time to educate him later.

Instead, I just grabbed his large hand and pulled him toward the stairs. "Come on. I’ll show you."

"Alright. But if anybody touches me, I’m screaming."

"Deal. And I’ll run you right out of here."

We stepped slowly into the darkroom. The first narrow hallway was lined with men, their eyes tracking us intently under the faint, blueish glow spilling in from the bathrooms. We had to shuffle past them in a tight little train, mostly because Sergio had plastered his front right against my ass like he was glued there. Honestly, it made walking a pain, but the poor kid was spooked. We pushed a little deeper, and soon enough, the darkness swallowed us completely.

"Does it bother you that I'm pressed up against you like this? I'm practically fucking you in the ass," he whispered right into my ear.

A jolt of pure heat shot down my spine.

"God, no. You're turning me on so fucking much right now. You won't hear a single complaint out of me."

"You're fucking with me, right?"

"Not even a little. But don't worry. It doesn't hurt."

"If it doesn't hurt, you can't be that turned on."

"Reach down and feel for yourself."

"Not a fucking chance."

"Alright, alright. Suit yourself."

Like I said, a textbook straight guy. We kept pushing through the pitch black until I let go of his hands. Not that it mattered—he had immediately locked his fingers together right over my stomach, making damn sure I couldn't slip away from him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, sounding borderline panicked.

"Feeling around for the wall. Unless you want me to bust my teeth open in the dark."

"Right. Obviously."

That’s when we heard it. Just to our right. A wet, sloppy sucking sound. The unmistakable noise of someone licking their lips.

"Someone's getting a hell of a blowjob," Sergio whispered, a slight edge of hysteria in his voice.

"Actually, I think someone's getting their ass eaten," I corrected him.

To my surprise, Sergio was the one who pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked it on, illuminating the whole damn scene.

For a split second, I caught a glimpse of about thirty men getting off in every way imaginable, working with tools of all shapes and sizes.

"Fuck, it's packed in here tonight," I muttered.

Suddenly, someone swatted Sergio's hand hard, sending the lighter flying out of his grip.

"Don't pick it up," he pleaded, as the pitch-black swallowed us again.

"Wasn't planning on it," I replied.

"Jesus, they play rough in here!"

"Did they hurt you?"

"Nah, I'm good."

"It's called a *dark*room for a reason, idiot," I scolded him affectionately. "By the way..."

"A blowjob," he answered. "I was right."

We kept pushing deeper into the darkness for another ten minutes. At one point, a frantic, wet *slap, slap, slap* let us know someone was getting absolutely railed just inches away from us. I waited, my pulse hammering, desperate to feel even the slightest twitch in Sergio's crotch—which was still pressed flush against my ass—but absolutely nothing stirred down there.

When we finally made it out into the light, I gave him the third degree.

"Well? What did you think?”

"Fascinating."

"You didn't even get hard."

"Was I supposed to?"

"When I was your age, just the word 'sex' was enough to get me rock hard."

"You're only three years older than me. And I don't swing that way. Guys don't do it for me."

"But there were people in there literally choking on cock."

"But they were *dudes*."

"But it could've been *your* cock."

"But it's not the same."

"But..."

And he let me keep throwing "buts" at him for the rest of the night, though he stopped arguing back. I suppose Sergio had already decided right then that I was going to be one of his best friends, and that he’d have plenty of time to educate me until I finally grasped that straight guys don't get hard watching men fuck.

Days bled into each other, and I fell hopelessly, disastrously in love with Sergio.

Weeks passed, and I confessed it to him.

Months went by, and our bond only deepened. He gave me all the love I craved—the tight hugs, the raw affection, the constant, lingering physical touch.

Everything. Except sex.

Sometimes we’d even crash in the same bed after a night of heavy drinking. Nothing ever happened, though. Even when I was starving for him, dying to just lean over and taste his mouth, I refused to make a move that might ruin the beautiful thing we didn't quite have.

And I was happy like that for two years. Until Sergio met Marta. And they got married. And I had to go find my own happiness with a guy who was a hell of a lot less straight.

We kept the friendship alive. So much so that Marcos (my boyfriend back then, now my husband), Sergio, his wife, and yours truly would get together for dinner two or three times a month. We spent New Year’s Eve together, organized camping trips, parties, card games, and the occasional vacation. More recently, we’d spend entire weekends binge-watching the first few seasons of *Lost*.

I’m not ashamed to admit that through all of this, I’ve stayed secretly, desperately in love with him. Or that, as the years went by, any physical contact with Sergio—the tight hugs, the casual cheek kisses, the firm handshakes—took on a deeply sexual weight for me. Sergio makes me rock hard. Now more than ever. And I’ll confess right here that I’ve jerked off in his bathroom more than once, fishing his worn boxers out of the laundry hamper and burying my face in the fabric, breathing in the raw, musky scent of his cock.

Anyway. About two months ago, Sergio called my cell. He sounded on edge.

"Did you guys have a fight?" I asked. Sergio and Marta don't usually fight, but when they do, they make a hell of a racket, and it’s usually the DVD player that pays the price, ending up launched right off the balcony. It’s always some cheap DVD player from the supermarket. For some reason, their rage never quite pushes them to smash the expensive premium cable box.

"No. It's not that. Can you come over?”

"Of course. I'm on my way."

It was a Thursday afternoon. I finish work early, and Marcos doesn't get home until nine. I had about two and a half hours to dedicate entirely to Sergio.

I got to his place, rang the bell, and he opened the door shirtless and barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of loose, white cropped pants hanging low on his hips. The second I saw him, my mouth watered and I was instantly dripping—or as a girlfriend of mine likes to say, my pussy turned into a puddle.

"Come in." To my absolute dismay, he didn't give me his usual welcoming hug.

I followed him to the living room couch, where he slumped down, looking completely defeated.

"What happened?" I asked, starting to actually worry.

"I can't take it anymore. If things keep going like this, I'm leaving her."

So it *was* about Marta after all.

"Same old story?" I asked.

He nodded, giving me these pathetic, kicked-puppy eyes.

The thing is, after more than ten years of marriage, Marta was still absolutely unwilling to suck his cock.

"She has zero problem with me burying my face between her legs and eating her out, but she won't even taste it. Won't even smell it. She won't even let me blow my load on her tits!"

I knew this song and dance by heart. Marta had this bizarre phobia of semen. Just looking at it made her gag, so the risk of him unloading on her tongue was completely out of the question...

"I can't do this anymore. I'm up to my fucking balls with this.”

"Come on, man. You can't rethink your entire marriage over something as trivial as Marta refusing to suck your cock, Sergio."

"Sure, easy for you to say. You actually get your dick sucked..."

"If she was freezing you out completely, that'd be one thing. But you guys are still fucking."

"But I want a fucking blowjob. And then two thousand more, just to make up for lost time."

"And what does she say when you ask?"

"She tells me to go jerk off."

"Have you ever thought about stepping out on her?"

"Have you? Have you thought about cheating on Marcos? Exactly. It's not an option."

I'd cheat on him with you in a heartbeat, you bastard, I thought.

"Well, I don't know what else to tell you. It's a tough problem to fix," I lied, considering I was fully prepared to drop to my knees and solve it for him right then and there.

"For what it's worth, I've always said blowjobs are overrated."

"Right now, I can't think of a single thing I want more."

"That's because you're a prisoner of your own heterosexuality. I'd trade a great blowjob for getting my ass eaten any day of the week." I didn't say it like a transaction, but God, I wished Sergio had taken it as an offer.

"I don't know, man. I think that would gross her out even more."

"Ah. So she hasn't done that either."

"Don't torture me, alright? I already know you get to play the field a lot more than I do."

"Only because you choose not to."

"I think we've made that pretty fucking clear by now, don't you?"

"I didn't mean with me, dumbass—though I wouldn't exactly complain if you offered. I meant with her. I bet she's never even sucked your nipples, has she? I bet it hasn't even crossed your mind to ask."

"She accidentally got a mouthful of my armpit once and looked disgusted for three days straight. Besides, my nipples aren't even sensitive."

"Bullshit. Give me twenty seconds and these two fingers, and I could have you rock hard."

"But you're you, not her."

"So?"

"You're a dude. You couldn't turn me on if I was blackout drunk."

"Come here and prove it."

"No way. If I actually get hard, you'll hold it over my masculinity for the rest of my life."

"You have a seriously warped concept of masculinity. Come on. Get over here. Twenty seconds on the clock."

"Fine."

And to my absolute surprise, he shifted over, laid his head right in my lap, and closed his eyes.

"No tickling."

"I'll stick strictly to the nipples."

"With your fingers."

"Obviously."

"Alright. Go. I'll count in my head."

My heart instantly started hammering against my ribs. For the first time in my life, I had Sergio completely surrendered to my touch for something explicitly sexual. I was actually going to try and turn him on. I was going to rub his nipples with my bare hands, and... I got rock hard, right beneath the weight of his head. He had to be feeling my erection pressing against him, but he didn't pull away.

"Are you gonna start?" he murmured, keeping his eyes closed as he started humming the theme from Kill Bill.

So I brushed his right nipple, agonizingly slow, tracing tiny circles with the tip of my index finger. I was dying to tangle my fingers in the thick, dark hair covering his chest, but I forced myself to stick to the rules, lightly grazing one nipple, then the other.

Sergio shivered slightly. I kept working his nipples, slow and deliberate, while my cock throbbed relentlessly under the weight of his head, which suddenly felt like it was pressing much heavier into my lap. At some point, I realized Sergio had stopped humming. He didn't seem to be counting anymore, either.

I kept massaging him, fully aware that the twenty seconds were long gone and that this could end at any second. So I started pressing a little harder. His nipples went completely rigid, the hair on his arms stood on end, and suddenly, he jolted—and shoved his loose white pants all the way down to his knees.

Without opening his eyes, he leaned back against my crotch, grabbed his cock, and started stroking himself with a brutal, frantic rhythm. My heart was hammering so hard against my ribs that I barely even dared to look down at it. I just kept working his nipples while he jerked off. But then the raw, heavy scent of his cock hit me, and I had no choice but to look.

It was massive—thick, heavily veined, and the exact perfect size to make my mouth water like a starving man. But his balls were almost better. They were so heavy and full that I was desperately tempted to reach down just to weigh them in my hands. Still, given the miracle of what was already happening, I figured I had more than enough, so I didn't dare move.

Sergio seemed to have other plans. Keeping his eyes firmly shut, he shifted his body closer, pressing his back flat against my thighs. I adjusted my position so he could rest against my chest. Now, while my fingers kept playing with his nipples, my arms were brushing against his shoulders, and my raging erection was trapped flush against his lower back.

His strokes hit a wicked, frantic pace, and I sped up my hands to match him. Then, Sergio started tilting his face up, as if he were searching for my lips. He parted his mouth, his tongue darting out just a fraction.

Fuck it, I told myself, and I kissed him.

He opened his lips wider, inviting me in, and I devoured his mouth with years of starved, pent-up desperation. Our tongues tangled together, and that was all it took for Sergio to come with a violent intensity I had rarely seen in another man. Thick ropes of cum shot out, splattering across his chest in heavy waves that felt like they were never going to end.

One of those heavy ropes splattered across my fingers. Sergio had broken the kiss, surrendering completely to the overwhelming force of his climax. His eyes were still squeezed shut, so I seized the moment, bringing my slick fingers to my lips to finally taste him.

We stayed frozen like that for a few minutes, the only sound his ragged breathing slowly evening out, while my own cock kept hammering relentlessly against his spine. Suddenly, he stood up and casually asked if I wanted a Coke.

I told him I needed a paper towel first.

He opened the fridge, grabbed a can, and poured the soda into a glass. But he didn't hand me a towel, even though there were two or three rolls sitting right there on the kitchen counter. I still had streaks of his cum drying on my arms, but he had clearly made the executive decision to completely ignore what had just happened.

"I'm gonna take a shower. It's fucking boiling in here."

And just like that, he vanished into the bathroom.

I ended up washing his load off my skin at the kitchen sink.

Ten minutes later, he had practically shoved me out the front door.

And, as you can probably guess, it didn't end there.

Part 2 coming in a few days. Follow my profile so you don't miss the rest of this story.

Everyone is 18+

~~~~~

The apartment was a goddamn oven.

Mid-July in the city, AC broken for the third time this summer, and our cheap landlord ghosting every call. I’d been crashing on the couch in nothing but thin gray boxer-briefs for days, skin sticking to the leather.

Kai, my roommate of eight months, had taken it worse.

He worked construction... long days hauling rebar under brutal sun... so he came home each evening glistening, tank top plastered to his torso like a second skin.

Kai was 6’2 of raw, sun-baked power. Not polished gym muscle, but thick, functional bulk from real labor, wide shoulders, heavy chest sloping into a solid gut that somehow looked powerful instead of soft, tree-trunk thighs, and forearms veined like road maps.

His skin carried a permanent bronze from the job sites, and a dark happy trail disappeared under his belt like an invitation.

I was 5’10, wiry from years of parkour and bike commuting, with sharper definition but nowhere near his mass.

That Thursday he slammed the door, dropped his tool belt with a clang, and immediately peeled off his soaked tank.

The scent hit me... pure masculine exertion, salt, sun-heated skin, faint engine grease, and that deep earthy musk that made the back of my throat tighten.

“Fuck this heat, man,” he growled, voice rough from dust.

He stood in the middle of the living room, chest heaving, nipples dark and peaked from the sudden cooler air. Sweat rolled down the center of his abs in slow, glistening trails before soaking into the waistband of his low-slung work jeans.

“I’m peeling everything off if you don’t mind.”

I shrugged from the couch, trying to keep my eyes on my phone.

“Do what you gotta do. I’m two seconds from joining you.”

He didn’t hesitate.

Jeans shoved down thick legs, revealing black compression shorts stretched obscenely over a heavy, sweat-darkened bulge. The fabric clung to every ridge of his thick cock and the weight of his balls.

He kicked the jeans aside and stretched, arms overhead, back arching.

The motion made his shorts ride up, exposing the bottom curve of his ass... pale compared to his tanned back, dusted with dark hair.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, palming his face. “Feels good just to breathe.”

My own cock twitched traitorously in my briefs. We’d seen each other naked plenty in the tiny bathroom, but this was different.

By midnight the temperature still hadn’t dropped. We killed two six-packs between us, sprawled on the floor with every fan pointed at our bodies.

Kai lay on his back in just those same compression shorts, one thick leg bent, the other stretched out. His hand lazily scratched at his treasure trail, fingers dipping just under the waistband.

“You ever get so horny from the heat your dick won’t quit?” he asked suddenly, voice low and gravelly.

I laughed, half-drunk.

“Constantly right now.”

He turned his head, dark eyes meeting mine.

“Same. Been rock hard since I got home. That sweat just… makes everything sensitive as fuck.”

His hand moved lower, openly adjusting the massive bulge. The head of his cock was clearly outlined, leaking enough to create a wet spot.

I couldn’t look away. My own erection strained against thin fabric, a bead of precum soaking through.

Kai noticed.

He didn’t smirk... he groaned.

“Fuck, dude. Seeing you hard because of me is making it worse.”

He hooked his thumbs in his waistband and pushed the shorts down in one slow motion.

His cock sprang free... thick, veiny, uncut, the foreskin pulled back just enough to show a glistening purple head already slick. Heavy balls hung low in a dark, wrinkled sac. A bead of sweat rolled down from his pubes and over the shaft.

“Touch yourself if you want,” he said, voice thick. “I’m not gonna stop.”

I shoved my briefs down. My cock was slimmer but rock-hard, curving upward, head already shiny.

We lay side by side on the floor, slowly stroking, the wet sounds of skin on skin mixing with the fans.

But Kai wanted more.

“C’mere…Closer”

I scooted over until our thighs touched. The heat radiating off his body was insane. He reached over with one big, calloused hand and wrapped it around both our cocks, pressing them together.

The sensation of his hot, thick meat rubbing against mine made me hiss.

“Feel that?” he murmured. “All that sweat making us slide so fucking easy.”

Kai’s grip was rough and confident, his calloused palm and thick fingers creating the perfect tight tunnel around our two cocks. His heavy veiny monster, pressed firm against my curved one.

“Shit…” I breathed, hips jerking involuntarily.

“Yeah? Feels good, doesn’t it?” Kai growled, his voice deeper than usual. 

He twisted his wrist on the upstroke, thumb smearing the mix of our precum over both heads. The heat between our bodies was unbearable, like lying next to a furnace. His thick thigh pressed harder against mine, coarse leg hair scraping my smoother skin.

I reached out and ran my hand over his sweaty chest, feeling the solid weight of his pecs, the coarse dark hair matted down with perspiration. My fingers found one of his fat nipples and pinched. Kai groaned loudly, his cock flexing hard against mine.

“Fuck yeah, play with them,” he muttered. “Been thinking about your hands on me while I was out there pouring concrete today.”

What

The confession made my balls tighten, my confidence grew up. I leaned in and dragged my tongue across his chest, licking up the salty sweat straight from his skin. He tasted raw… salt, musk, a hint of dirt and man. 

Kai’s free hand grabbed the back of my head, not forcing but encouraging, holding me against his body as I licked and sucked at his nipple. We stayed like that for long minutes, his big fist pumping our cocks together, my mouth working his chest, the sticky heat building between us until we were both panting like animals

Kai’s strokes grew faster, more urgent. The wet, filthy sound of his calloused hand sliding up and down our slick cocks filled the room, louder than the fans. Every twist of his wrist sent sparks shooting up my spine. 

Our precum mixed into a warm, sloppy mess that coated his thick fingers and dripped down over our balls.

“Fuck.. mmgghhh, listen to that,” he groaned, voice rough. 

“So goddamn wet. Your dick feels so good sliding against mine.”

I moaned against his nipple and bucked my hips, fucking up into his fist. The contrast was driving me crazy… his massive, heavy cock throbbing against my slimmer one, veins pulsing, heads bumping and rubbing with every stroke. 

I could feel his heartbeat through his dick.

Kai suddenly pulled my head up from his chest and crushed his mouth against mine in a rough, hungry kiss. No softness, just raw need… tongues sliding, teeth nipping, hot breath mixing. While we kissed, his grip tightened and he started jerking us harder, faster, using both of our leaking precum as lube.

I reached down and wrapped my hand around his, helping him stroke. Now four hands were working our two cocks together in a tight, slippery tunnel. 

The pressure was insane.

“Shit, I’m… uggghhhh… fuckk….getting close,” I gasped into his mouth.

“Me too,” Kai growled, forehead pressed to mine, eyes locked. 

“Don’t stop. I want to feel you cum all over my dick.”

His words pushed me right to the edge. My balls drew up tight. Kai’s thick thigh clamped over my leg, holding me in place as he pumped us furiously. The wet squelching sounds turned frantic.

“Fuck… Kaiii…. aaarrggghhh…. I’m gonna…”

“Yeah.. yeah… yeah.. fuckkk… do it. Shoot it,” he snarled.

The orgasm hit me like a freight train. I cried out, hips jerking wildly as thick ropes of cum erupted from my cock, spraying hard across Kai’s heavy shaft and abs. 

The first shot even reached up to his chest. My whole body shook with every pulse.The feeling of my hot load coating him sent Kai over the edge right after.

“Fuuuuck.. Arrrrrgggghhhhh” he roared.

His massive body tensed, muscles bulging. His thick cock throbbed violently in our joined hands and then exploded. 

Heavy, powerful jets of cum blasted out, thicker and stronger than mine, mixing with my load and splattering across both our stomachs and chests. 

One rope shot so far it hit my chin. 

He kept stroking us through it, milking every last drop, turning the space between us into a hot, sticky, cum-drenched mess.

We kept pumping slowly for another half minute, riding out the aftershocks, until we were both oversensitive and gasping. Kai finally released our spent cocks and collapsed onto his back, chest heaving. 

I fell half on top of him, our bodies glued together by sweat and the massive combined load cooling between us. His big arm wrapped around my back, holding me there.

“Goddamn…” he breathed, voice hoarse. “That was fucking intense.”

I could only nod, still trying to catch my breath, my face buried against his sweaty neck, inhaling that raw masculine scent mixed with the sharp smell of our cum.

— – - - —

The next night we didn’t even pretend.

Kai came home, stripped immediately, and told me to lose the clothes. We ended up in his bed because it was bigger.

He lay back against the headboard, legs spread wide, that heavy cock resting against his abs, leaking steadily.

“Worship it,” he said simply. Not demanding... asking. His voice was husky with need.

“Been thinking about cumming on you all day at work.”

I crawled between his thighs.

Up close he was overwhelming... the musk stronger, the veins on his shaft pulsing, a thick drop of precum rolling down the side.

I started with my hands... running them over his hairy chest, thumbs circling his nipples until they hardened into points.

I licked the sweat from the groove between his pecs, tasting salt and man.

He moaned deep in his chest when my tongue found a nipple.

“Fuck yes… suck on it.”

I did. Hard.

While my hand worked his cock in long, twisting strokes, spreading his precum everywhere.

His hips bucked, thick thighs trembling.

I moved lower, licking along the underside of his shaft, savoring the salty tang of sweat and pre.

When I took the head into my mouth, he cursed loudly, one hand gently gripping my hair.

“Not gonna last if you keep that up,” he warned, but he didn’t pull me off.

Instead he flipped us. Kai was surprisingly agile for his size. He pinned me down gently, his massive body hovering over mine, and started grinding. Our cocks slid together in a mess of spit and precum and sweat.

Every thrust made his heavy balls slap against me.

“Look at me,” he ordered softly.

Our eyes locked as he rutted harder, faster. The friction was obscene... hot, slick, vulgar. His chest hair rubbed my smoother torso raw. I reached around and grabbed two handfuls of his thick, muscular ass, pulling him tighter.

“Gonna paint you,” he growled. “Cover you in my fucking load.”

When he came it was explosive... ropes of thick, hot cum shooting across my chest and abs, some landing on my own cock.

The sight and heat pushed me over. I added my load to the mess, shooting hard enough that some hit his chin.

We collapsed together, sticky and breathing hard.

But we weren’t done.

Hours later, after showers that turned into more rubbing and soaping each other’s bodies, we returned to bed.

This time slower.

Sensual.

Kai had me lie face-down.

He straddled my thighs, his still-hard cock nestled between my ass cheeks... not pushing in, just sliding.

The weight of him was incredible. He poured more lube (we’d raided the bottle earlier) and started a long, lazy fuck between my cheeks while his big hands massaged my back, shoulders, and arms.

Every so often he’d lean down, chest to my back, and whisper filthy praise..

“Your tight little ass feels so good squeezing my dick… gonna cum all over this hole later… such a good fucking boy letting me use you like this.”

I was leaking steadily into the sheets.

He eventually flipped me again and we froted like animals... cock against cock, his big hand jerking us together while his other played with my balls, then reached lower to tease my hole with one thick finger.

Not penetrating deep, just circling, pressing.

When we finally came the second time it was together, foreheads pressed, breathing each other’s air, loads mixing between our pressed bodies until we were both glazed and spent.

Sunlight poured in.

Kai woke first.

Instead of awkwardness, he pulled me against his chest and lazily stroked my morning wood while kissing my neck.

“This doesn’t make us anything we don’t wanna be,” he murmured against my skin. “Just two guys helping each other feel good in this fucking heat. And I plan on helping you a lot more before the AC gets fixed.”

I grinned, reaching down to grip his thickening cock.

“Good. Because I’m nowhere near done tasting all that sweat and salt.”

The summer stretched long and sticky ahead of us... full of more shared showers that turned filthy, late-night body worship sessions, and the kind of raw, masculine pleasure that only two straight guys who truly see each other can create.

No labels.

Just heat, hunger, and the constant, delicious slide of skin on skin.

--- -- ---

When I Stopped Waiting

Note: This is a true story. Some names and details have been altered to protect the privacy of those involved, but the feelings—and the heat—are 100% real.

III

It had been three days since our encounter in the bathrooms of La Muesca Alemana, and I hadn't seen Sergio since. But I couldn't get his promise out of my head—that next time, he’d let me take my time swallowing every last drop of his cum. Then again, with his constant hot-and-cold bullshit whenever it came to whatever this was between us, God only knew if he’d actually keep his word.

It was around six on a Saturday evening, and we were bored out of our minds at home. I casually suggested to Marcos that he call Marta and Sergio to see if they wanted to come over for a movie or a game of Monopoly. Marcos called Sergio's cell, and they ended up talking for about five minutes. My nerves spiked. Judging by Marcos’s half of the conversation, I couldn't figure out what the fuck they were talking about.

At one point, Marcos shot me this strange, piercing look, and my blood ran cold. My mind raced. I pictured a guilt-ridden Sergio confessing everything—explaining to my boyfriend how I’d preyed on his sexual frustration with Marta to get him off twice. How he, the poor, helpless victim, had just let me have my way with him, completely blind to the wreckage it would cause our respective partners.

When Marcos finally set the phone down on the table, his face was completely unreadable.

"Very interesting," he said, his eyes locked on mine.

"Are they coming over?" I asked, playing dumb.

"Sergio told me you went with them to La Muesca on Wednesday. You didn't mention it."

"Well... I wanted to wait..."

"Well, he already ruined the surprise and told me what you bought me, so there's no need to wait anymore." A genuine smile finally broke across his face.

I hurried to the bedroom, opened the closet, and dug through the winter blankets to pull out his gift, desperately trying to steady my racing pulse. Jesus. It was my own damn fault for asking Marcos to make the call. What the hell was I thinking?

As Marcos tore the wrapping paper off his present, I asked if we were still meeting up with them.

"Sergio said they're more in the mood for a movie. We're meeting them at the Ociplús at seven. Go jump in the shower, or we're going to be late."

At seven on the dot, we pulled into the sprawling parking lot of the entertainment complex, parking right next to Marta's car. Marta and Sergio were waiting for us, making out in the front seat.

"Sometimes I wonder how they keep that spark alive after all these years," Marcos murmured.

"I can't figure it out either," I replied, a sickening knot of jealousy twisting in my gut.

"We barely even kiss anymore," Marcos let slip.

"Maybe not out in public like them, but you can't complain about how much we've been fucking this week."

"True. You've been horny as hell the last few days. You'll have to tell me what you're taking."

We dropped it because Sergio and Marta had finally noticed us and were climbing out of the car, looking a little flushed.

On the walk to the multiplex entrance, Sergio was overly chatty with Marcos, practically ignoring me. I stuck to making idle small talk with Marta, who looked more gorgeous and radiant than ever. We bought tickets for an eight o'clock horror flick. Marcos insisted on paying since his birthday was on Monday. I knew it was just his not-so-subtle way of reminding Sergio and Marta that they still needed to get him a gift. Afterward, we ducked into one of the complex's forty different bars to grab a drink and kill time before the movie.

We had just settled at a table with two beers and a couple of mixed drinks when Sergio announced he’d left his wallet in the car.

"Anyone want to come with?" he asked, staring shamelessly right at me.

Marta, without even looking up, assumed he was asking her and flat-out refused, complaining that her killer heels were already making her feet ache.

So I stood up and followed Sergio, while my husband joked:

"Watch out, man, Luis is walking around with a permanent hard-on these days."

Once we were outside, Sergio threw his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close.

"I missed you," he said.

"Seriously?"

"Did you doubt it?"

"Well... a little."

We walked like that, pressed together, all the way to the parking lot. I wished to God it was empty, but there was a steady stream of cars pulling in and out, along with families and couples weaving through the rows of vehicles, heading to their cars or the multiplex.

We reached our spot, and Sergio flashed a wicked smile.

"Well, look at that. Marta has the keys. More time for us."

"But we have to go back and ask her for them. What if she comes out looking for us...?"

Sergio shoved me back against the car door and pressed his body flush against mine, our cocks lining up perfectly, not giving a single fuck if anyone saw us. Then he kissed me. He forced his tongue past my lips and kissed the absolute hell out of me, rolling his hips just enough to make sure I felt his cock getting impossibly hard against my jeans.

I surrendered to that heavy, open-air kiss, still half-convinced I was dreaming. I reached up to pinch his nipples through his shirt, but he suddenly broke the kiss, pulling back.

"Fuck... you're getting me so damn hot," he groaned.

I hadn't even done anything crazy yet, but I kept my mouth shut.

"Let's go get those keys," he said, shifting his hips to adjust his cock into a better position.

The truth was, those jeans fit him like a fucking glove, putting a massive, heavy bulge on full display. Watching him, the reality of the moment finally shattered my defenses. It hit me—everything I had fantasized about for years was actually happening. Sergio was finally giving in to me, yielding with a natural ease I never would have expected. As we walked back toward the bar, I shamelessly squeezed and groped his ass while he leaned in, whispering filthy things against my ear.

A few yards from the entrance, we pulled apart. Sergio told me to go in and grab the keys myself, pointing out that his hard-on was way too obvious to walk inside. I quickly untucked my shirt, trying to drape it over my own raging erection, since I was in the exact same boat.

Inside, back at our table, Marcos was sitting alone.

"Where's Marta?" I asked, a spike of panic hitting me.

"In the bathroom."

"Oh."

"Where's Sergio?" he asked.

"At the car. Marta has the keys, so I came back to grab them."

"Did you run all the way here?"

"What?"

"You look flushed."

"Yeah, well. I hurried."

Marta came back from the restroom just then, and the second she saw me, she started digging through her purse.

"The keys, right?" she said, pulling them out and tossing them to me. "Hurry up, your beers are getting warm."

I rushed out of the bar, and Sergio immediately planted two more hard kisses on my lips, right there, barely fifteen feet from where his wife and my husband were waiting, right in the middle of a packed entertainment complex.

We headed back to the parking lot, slipped into Marta's car, and for five glorious minutes, we absolutely devoured each other. Our hands roamed frantically over each other's bodies, fueled by a blinding, overwhelming heat.

"We have to go back," I managed to say at one point, just as Sergio was unzipping my jeans, fully intent on freeing my cock.

"You're probably right," he murmured. But he pulled my cock out anyway, leaving me completely stunned as he ducked his head and took me deep into his mouth.

Every hair on my body stood on end. Sergio went to work on me, delivering a mind-blowing blowjob—honestly spectacular for a supposedly straight guy with zero experience sucking cock. I only got to enjoy that incredible head for less than a minute before Sergio decided we'd better stop and head back to the bar. But I don't think I've ever been hotter in my entire life, watching in sheer disbelief as Sergio feasted on my dick with an insatiable appetite. I never could have imagined it. It blew every fantasy I'd ever had right out of the water.

I tucked my cock away while he kept running his hands all over me. On the walk back to the bar, it hit me: Sergio was completely unhinged. If he didn't get a grip, he was going to get us into serious fucking trouble.

When we finally sat back down, Marcos and Marta were deep in an animated conversation about their jobs and barely paid us any attention. Sergio started tapping away on his phone, and a moment later, I got a text. I cursed myself for not having my phone on silent. Marcos shot me a curious look without breaking his conversation with Marta.

I opened the message. It read:

"I'm dying to get you alone. I want to suck your cock until you fill my mouth with your cum. I want to do everything to you, and I want you to do it right back to me. I'm about to fucking explode."

I instantly deleted the incriminating text and shot him a furious glare.

"Who was that?" Marcos asked, his piercing gaze locking onto me again.

"Just Movistar being annoying. Some spam text promo."

From that moment on, I tried to focus on Marta and Marcos’s conversation, but it was impossible. Sergio kept staring at me with such a ravenous hunger that I was terrified someone was going to notice.

Time dragged on agonizingly slow until it was finally time to head to the theater. Marcos pulled out his wallet to cover the drinks, but Marta placed a hand over his.

"Make Sergio pay. He always weasels out of it."

Sergio reached for his back pocket, only to realize he hadn't actually grabbed his wallet from the car.

"Someone else is gonna have to get it," he said, completely unfazed.

"You went all the way out there specifically for your wallet, and you came back without it?" Marta asked, staring at him in disbelief.

"We got to talking and I just forgot to grab it," Sergio offered as a lame excuse.

Marcos looked back and forth between the two of us, his lips pressed into a tight, hard line. I desperately wanted to say something—anything—to deflect his attention, but I knew damn well that whatever came out of my mouth would only be used against me.

"Actually, I was too busy sucking Luis's cock and swallowing his cum, so it completely slipped my mind," Sergio deadpanned.

That was all it took to diffuse the tension. Marcos muttered a dry, "You wish," while Marta punched her husband in the shoulder for being filthy and pulled out her own wallet to pay.

My legs were practically shaking as we walked out of the bar. Marcos grabbed my arm, told me he loved me, and asked me to kiss him. I think he was desperately trying to convince himself that his momentary flash of doubt had been for nothing. I kissed him, a suffocating wave of guilt washing over me, and caught Sergio watching us with a flash of disdain before he quickened his pace.

Was it actually possible that Sergio was jealous of Marcos, the same way I was jealous of Marta? Was he falling for me, too? It felt way too good to be true.

Marcos stuck to me like glue the rest of the way, and when we finally took our seats in the dark theater, he made damn sure to sit right between Sergio and me.

I knew right then that Marcos suspected something. From here on out, I was going to have to be incredibly careful. One of those lame PSAs reminding people to silence their cell phones flashed on the screen, and just as I went to power mine down, another loud text chimed in. I shut the phone off without even reading it, hyper-aware that Marcos was watching my every move.

The movie was absolute trash—packed with cheap jump scares and the same tired, recycled plot—and it ended with a whimper. Marcos had spent the entire runtime stroking my arm, holding my hand, or leaning in to kiss me. And during those agonizing hour and forty minutes, I made a choice: whatever this was with Sergio, it was over. Right then, right there, tonight. Forever. I couldn't do this to Marcos. I loved him. Sergio was just going to have to understand.

When we walked out of the theater, we all headed to the restrooms. Marcos, showing excellent judgment, didn't leave me alone with Sergio for a single second. While they stood at the urinals, bitching about how awful the movie was, I slipped into a stall and locked the door. I powered my phone back on, double-checked that it was on silent just in case, and pulled up my inbox to read the unread text.

Just as I suspected, it was Sergio again. It was like he didn't give a flying fuck if Marta caught on. She had to have seen him typing out the exact message that hit my phone three seconds later. Or maybe he just knew her better than I did, knowing she’d brush it off as just another one of his stupid jokes. I read the text:

"I'll be at the park two blocks from my place tonight at 2:30 AM. Sometimes I can't sleep and I take the dog out for a late-night walk. Don't leave me hanging."

I deleted the message. But the words were already burned into my brain.

When we got home, Marcos practically ripped my clothes off, and we fucked like animals right there in the kitchen. First, he took me hard against the fridge, pounding into me until he came with loud, ragged shouts that probably terrified the neighbors. Then it was my turn. I flipped him onto the kitchen table and fucked him, thrusting into him with everything I had, desperately trying to pound Sergio’s late-night proposition out of my head.

Afterward, we threw together some dinner and watched a movie we’d downloaded, which turned out to be a hell of a lot better than the garbage we’d seen at the theater. We finally went to bed around one-thirty.

By two o'clock, Marcos was dead to the world, but I couldn't even close my eyes. All I could picture was Sergio slipping out of his house, walking those two blocks, and stepping into the park, sitting on a bench in the dark, waiting for me. Just the thought of it had me hard and aching like a bitch in heat.

If I wanted to make it there on time without taking the car, I had to leave right fucking now. I threw on a pair of sweatpants—going commando underneath—and a loose t-shirt. I slipped on my sneakers and crept out of the bedroom, straining my ears to listen to the steady rhythm of Marcos’s breathing, terrified the pitch might change.

But Marcos didn't stir. I eased the bedroom door shut, grabbed my keys, and tiptoed toward the front door of our apartment, thanking God it was at the far end of a long hallway. I slipped out, careful not to make a single sound, and pulled the door shut with a soft click. I hit the elevator button and stood there waiting, my heart hammering in my chest.

I felt like I was fifteen again, sneaking down to the beach in the dead of night with a pair of binoculars, hoping to catch some couple fucking under a streetlight, jacking myself off into the dark whether I actually found anyone screwing or not.

Once I hit the street, I broke into a run. There was no way in hell I could just casually walk the distance. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, but not a single one of them involved telling Sergio we needed to end this. I felt more alive than I had in years. I just wanted to get to that park and surrender completely to the pure, unadulterated lust—to finally reach heaven with the man I had loved my entire life.

And that is exactly what I did.

Part 4 coming in a few days. Follow my profile so you don't miss the rest of this story.